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FREDERICK  AND  THE  COUNTESS. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT 

AND  HIS  FAMILY 


9ln  historical  Nooel 


BY 

L.   MUHLBACH       "  •' 

AUTHOR  OF  JOSEPH   11.    AND   HIS   COURT,   FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   AND   HIS   COURT, 
BERLIN   AND   SANS-SOUCI,    THE    MERCHANT  OF  BERLIN,    ETC. 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    BY 

Mrs.  chapman  COLEMAN   AND   HER  DAUGHTERS 


NEW   YORK 

A.    L.    FOWLE,    Publisher 
1905 


CoPYRiQHT,  1867,  1893, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


CONTEISTTS.  '  ^^^ 
\l.  3 


BOOK  I. 

CHAFTEB  FAOK 

I.  The  King ,  1 

n.  I*rince  Henry, 4 

m.  Louise  von  Kleist .  8 

IV.  At  the  Masked  Ball 13 

V.  A  Secret  Captain 18 

VI.  The  Legacy  of  Von  Trenck,  Colonel  of  the  Pandours,      .  21 

VII.  The  King  and  Weingarten 29 

VIII.  The  Unwilling  Bridegroom 82 

IX.  The  First  Disappointment 88 

X.  The  Conquered 46 

XI.  The  Travelling  Musicians 62 

XII.  Travelling  Adventures,      .        .        .  ■      .        .        .        .56 

XIII.  The  Drag-Boat 63 

XIV.  In  Amsterdam, 63 

XV.  The  King  without  Shoes 74 


BOOK  II. 

I.     The  Unhappy  News 83 

^    II.     Trenck  on  his  Way  to  Prison 93 

III.  Prince  Henry  and  His  Wife 103 

IV.  The  Fete  in  the  Woods, Ill 

\,    V.     Intrigues 119 

VI.     The  Private  Audience, 125 

VII.     The  Traitor 129 

VIII.     Declaration  of  War 136 

IX.     The  King  and  his  Brothers, 140 

X.     The  Laurel- Branch. 145 

XI.    The  BaU  at  Count  Bruhl's 147 

XII.     The  Interrupted  Feast 155 

XIII.  The  Archives  at  Dresden,  .        .  ,     .        .        .        .161 

XIV.  Saxony  Humiliated.  .        .      '.        .        .        .168 

4C6615 


IV  CONTENTS. 
BOOK   III. 

CHAFTKR  PAOB 

I.    The  Maiden  of  Briinen 172 

11.     News  of  Battle 177 

III.  The  Certificate  of  Enlistment 181 

IV.  Farewell  to  the  Village 188 

V.     The  Prisoner, 194 

VI.     The  Prison  Barricade, 203 

VII.     The  Battle  of  Collin, 205 

Vni.    The  Inimical  Brothers 211 

IX.     The  Letters, 221 

X.     In  the  Castle  at  Dresden, 225 

XI.     The  Te  Deum 282 

Xn.    Camp  Scene 236 

XIII.  The  Watch-Fire 242 

XIV.  The  Battle  of  Leuthen, 248 

XV.     Winter  Quarters  in  Breslau 255 

XVL     The  Broken  Heart, 262 


BOOK   IV. 

I.  The  King  and  his  Old  and  New  Enemies,         .        .        .  268 

II.     The  Three  Officers, ,273 

III.    Ranuzi .  277 

rV.     Louise  du  Trouffle 287 

V.     The  Fortune -Teller 293 

VI.     A  Court  Day  in  Berlin 302 

VIL     In  the  Window-Niche 311 

VIII.  The  Nutshells  behind  the  Fauteuil  of  the  Queen,  .        .      314 

IX.    The  Duel  and  its  Consequences, 319 

X.     The  Five  Couriers, 324 

XI.     After  the  Battle 331 

xn.     A  Heroic  Soul, 337 

Xm.    The  Two  Grenadiers 342 

XIV.     The  Right  Counsel 346 

XV.     A  Hero  in  Misfortune 866 


BOOK  V. 

I.    The  Teresiani  and  the  Prussiani 361 

n.     Frederick  the  Great  as  a  Saint, 366 

in.    The  Cloister  Brothers  of  San  Giovanni  e  Paolo,   .        .  371 


CONTENTS. 


CB4PTER 


riea 


IV. 

The  Return  from  the  Army,      ...» 

.        .  881 

V. 

Tlie  Brave  Fathers  and  the  Cowardly  Sons,  . 

.      888 

VI. 

The  Traitor's  Betrayal, 

.  395 

VII. 

The  Accusation, 

.      400 

VIII. 

Revenge 

.  408 

IX. 

Trenck 

.      413 

X. 

"Trenck,  are  you  there?" 

.  417 

XI. 

The  King  and  the  German  Scholar, 

.      428 

XII. 

Gellert 

.  432 

XIII. 

The  Poet  and  the  King 

.        .      439 

XIV. 

The  King  and  the  Village  Magistrate, 

.  445 

XV. 

The  Proposal  of  Marriage 

.       448 

XVI. 

.  457 

BOOK  VI. 

I.    The  King's  Return, 468 

II.    Prince  Henry 477 

III.  Mother  and  Daughter,    .      ' 482 

IV.  The  King  in  Sans-Souci, 493 

V.     The  Engraved  Cup 501 

VI.    Tlie  Princess  and  the  Diplomatist, 608 

VII.     The  Royal  House- Spy 514 

VIII.  The  Clouds  Gather,    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .618 

IX.     Brother  and  Sister, •        .      525 

X.     The  Stolen  Child, 682 

XI.     The  Discovery, •        •      540 

XII.     The  Morning  at  Sans-Souci 646 

XIII.  A  Husband's  Revenge,  ....••  657 

XIV.  The  Separation, 064 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PASS 

Frederick  and  the  GounteM IVontitpieee 

Baron  Trenck  in  Prison 196 

The  Interview  in  Frederick's  Tent  after  the  Defeat .        .        .        .  21« 

Frederick  and  the  Two  Grenadiers 848 

The  Jeweller  and  Princess  Amelie 60i 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 


BOOK  I 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    KING. 

The  king  laid  his  flute  aside,  and  with  his  hands  folded  behind 
his  back,  walked  thoughtfully  up  and  down  his  room  in  Sans-Souci. 
His  countenance  was  now  tranquil,  his  brow  cloudless ;  with  the 
aid  of  music  he  had  harmonized  his  soul,  and  the  anger  and  dis- 
pleasure he  had  so  shortly  before  felt  were  soothed  by  the  melodious 
notes  of  his  flute. 

The  king  was  no  longer  angry,  but  melancholy,  and  the  smile 
that  played  on  his  lip  was  so  resigned  and  painful  that  the  brave 
Marquis  d' Argens  would  have  wept  had  he  seen  it,  and  the  stinging 
jest  of  Voltaire  have  been  silenced. 

But  neither  the  marquis  nor  Voltaire,  nor  any  of  his  friends  were 
at  present  in  Potsdam.  D' Argens  was  in  France,  with  his  young 
wife,  Barbe  Cochois ;  Voltaire,  after  a  succession  of  difficulties  and 
quarrels,  had  departed  forever ;  Greneral  Rothenberg  had  also  departed 
to  a  land  from  which  no  one  returns — he  was  dead  !  My  lord  mar- 
shal had  returned  to  Scotland,  Algarotti  to  Italy,  and  Bastiani  still 
held  his  office  in  Breslau.  Sans-Souci,  that  had  been  heretofore  the 
seat  of  joy  and  laughing  wit — Sans-Souci  was  now  still  and  lonely  ; 
youth,  beauty,  and  gladness  had  forsaken  it  forever;  earnestness 
and  duty  had  taken  their  place,  and  reigned  in  majesty  within  those 
walls  that  had  so  often  echoed  with  the  happy  laugh  and  sparkling 
jest  of  the  king's  friends  and  contemporaries. 

Frederick  thought  of  this,  as  with  folded  hands  he  walked  up 
and  down,  and  recalled  the  past.  Sunk  in  deep  thought,  he  re- 
mained standing  before  a  picture  that  hung  on  the  wall  above  his 
secretary,  which  represented  Barbarina  in  the  fascinating  costume 
of  a  shepherdess,  as  he  had  seen  her  for  tho  first  time  ten  years  ago : 
it  had  been  painted  by  Pesne  for  the  king.  Wh3.t  vecpllections, 
I 


2  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

what  dreams  arose  before  the  king's  soul  as  he  gazed  at  that  bewitch- 
ing and  lovely  face ;  at  those  soft,  melting  eyes,  whose  glance  had 
once  made  him  so  happy  !  But  that  was  long  ago ;  it  had  passed  like 
a  sunbeam  on  a  rainy  day,  it  had  been  long  buried  in  clouds.  These 
remembrances  warmed  the  king's  heart  as  he  now  stood  so  solitary 
and  loveless  before  this  picture ;  and  he  confessed  to  that  sweet 
image,  once  so  fondly  loved,  what  he  had  never  admitted  to  himself, 
that  his  heart  was  very  lonely. 

But  these  painful  recollections,  these  sad  thoughts,  did  not  last. 
The  king  roused  himself  from  those  dangerous  dreams,  and  on  leav- 
ing the  picture  cast  upon  it  almost  a  look  of  hatred. 

"  This  is  folly, "  he  said  ;  "  I  will  to  work. " 

He  approached  the  secretary,  and  seized  the  sealed  letters  and 
packets  that  were  lying  there.  "A  letter  and  packet  from  the 
queen,"  he  said,  wonderingly  opening  the  letter  first.  Casting  a 
hasty  glance  through  it,  a  mocking  smile  crossed  his  face.  "  She 
sends  me  a  French  translation  of  a  prayer-book, "  he  said,  shrugging 
his  shovilders.  "  Poor  queen  !  her  heart  is  not  yet  dead,  though,  by 
Heaven  !  it  has  suffered  enough. " 

He  threw  the  letter  carelessly  aside,  without  glancing  at  the 
book ;  its  sad,  pleading  prayer  was  but  an  echo  of  the  thoughts 
trembling  in  her  heart. 

"  Bagatelles !  nothing  more, "  he  murmured,  after  reading  the 
other  letters  and  laying  them  aside.  He  then  rang  hastily,  and 
bade  the  servant  send  Baron  PoUnitz  to  him  as  soon  as  he  appeared 
in  the  audience-chamber. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  door  oi)ened,  and  the  old,  wrinkled, 
sweetly  smiling  face  of  the  undatmted  courtier  appeared. 

"Approach,"  said  the  king,  advancing  a  few  steps  to  meet  him. 
"Do  you  bring  me  his  submission?  Does  my  brother  Henry 
acknowledge  that  it  is  vain  to  defy  my  power?" 

PoUnitz  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Sire, "  he  said,  sighing,  "  his 
highness  will  not  imderstand  that  a  prince  must  have  no  heart.  He 
still  continues  in  his  disobedience,  and  declares  that  no  man  should 
marry  a  woman  without  loving  her ;  that  he  would  bo  contemptible 
and  cowardly  to  allow  himself  to  be  forced  to  do  what  should  be  the 
free  choice  of  his  own  heart. " 

PoUnitz  had  spoken  with  downcast  eyes  and  respectful  counte- 
nance ;  he  appeared  not  to  notice  that  the  king  reddened  and  his 
eyes  burned  with  anger. 

"Ah  !  my  brother  dared  to  say  that?"  cried  the  king.  "He  has 
the  Utopian  thought  to  believe  that  he  can  defy  my  wishes.  Tell 
him  he  is  mistaken ;  he  must  submit  to  me  as  I  had  to  submit  to  my 
father." 


THE  KING.  3 

"  He  gives  that  as  an  example  why  he  will  not  yield.  He  be- 
lieves a  forced  marriage  can  never  be  a  happy  one ;  that  your  majesty 
had  not  only  made  yourself  unhappy  by  your  marriage,  but  also 
your  queen,  and  that  there  was  not  a  lady  in  the  land  who  would 
exchange  places  with  your  wife. " 

The  king  glanced  piercingly  at  Pollnitz.  "Do  you  know  it 
would  have  been  better  had  you  forgotten  a  few  of  my  wise  brother's 
words?" 

"  Your  majesty  commanded  me  to  tell  you  faithfully  every  word 
the  prince  said. " 

"  And  you  are  too  much  a  man  of  truth  and  obedience,  too  little 
of  a  courtier,  not  to  be  frank  and  faithful.  Is  it  not  so?  Ah  I 
vraiment,  I  know  you,  and  I  know  very  well  that  you  are  playing  a 
double  game.  But  I  warn  you  not  to  follow  the  promptings  of  your 
wicked  heart.  I  desire  my  brother  to  marry,  do  you  hear?  I  will 
it,  and  you,  the  grand  chamberlain,  Baron  Pollnitz,  shall  feel  my 
anger  if  he  does  not  consent. " 

"  And  if  he  does?"  said  Pollnitz,  in  his  laughing,  shameless  man- 
ner ;  "  if  I  persuade  the  prince  to  submit  to  your  wishes,  what  recom- 
pense shall  I  receive?" 

"  On  the  day  of  their  betrothal,  I  will  raise  your  income  five  him- 
dred  crowns,  and  pay  your  debts. " 

"Ah,  sire,  in  what  a  pitiable  dilemma  you  are  placing  mel 
Your  majesty  wishes  Prince  Henry  to  engage  himself  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  I  must  now  wish  it  to  be  as  late  as  possible. " 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  I  must  hasten  to  make  as  many  debts  as  possible,  that 
your  majesty  may  pay  them. " 

"  You  are  and  will  remain  an  vmmitigated  fool ;  old  age  will  not 
even  cure  j'ou, "  said  the  king,  smiling.  "  But  speak,  do  you  think 
ray  brother  may  be  brought  to  reason?" 

Pollnitz  shrugged  his  shoulders,  gave  a  sly  smile,  but  was  silent. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me.  Is  my  brother  in  love?  and  has  he  con- 
fided in  you?" 

"  Sire,  I  believe  the  prince  is  in  love  from  ennui  alone,  but  he 
swears  it  is  his  first  love. " 

"  That  is  an  oath  that  is  repeated  to  each  lady-love ;  I  am  not 
afraid  of  it, "  said  the  king,  sniiling  "  Who  is  the  enchantress  that 
has  heard  his  first  loving  vows?  She  is  doubtless  a  fairy— a  goddess 
of  beauty. " 

"Yes,  sire,  she  is  young  and  beautiful,  and  declares  it  is  also  her 
first  love,  so  no  one  can  doubt  its  puritj' ;  no  one  understands  love  as 
well  as  this  fair  lady  ;  no  otlier  than  Madame  von  Kleist,  who,  as 
your  majesty  remembers,  was  lately  divorced  from  her  husband. " 


4  FREDERICK  THE  QREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  And  is  now  free  to  love  again,  as  it  appears, "  said  the  king, 
with  a  mocking  smile.  "But  the  beautiful  Louise  von  Schwerin 
is  a  dangerous,  daring  woman,  and  we  must  check  her  clever  plans 
in  the  bud.  If  she  desires  to  be  loved  by  my  brother,  she  possesses 
knowledge,  beauty,  and  experience  to  gain  her  point  and  to  lead 
him  into  all  manner  of  follies.  This  affair  must  be  brought  quickly 
to  a  close,  and  Prince  Henry  acknowledged  to  be  the  prince  royal. " 

"Prince  Henry  goes  this  evening  to  Berlin  to  attend  a  feast  given 
by  the  Prince  of  Prussia, "  whispered  PoUnitz. 

"Ah !  it  is  true  the  prince's  an-est  ceases  at  six  o'clock,  but  ho 
will  not  forget  that  he  needs  permission  to  leave  Potsdam. " 

"He  will  forget  it,  sire." 

The  king  walked  up  and  down  in  silence,  and  his  coimtenance 
assumed  an  angry  and  threatening  appearance.  "This  struggle 
must  be  brought  to  a  close,  and  that  speedily.  My  brother  must 
submit  to  my  authority.  Go  and  watch  his  movements ;  as  soon 
as  he  leaves,  come  to  me. " 

Long  after  Pollnitz  had  left  him,  the  king  paced  his  chamber  in 
deep  thought.  "  Poor  Henry  1  I  dare  not  sympathize  with  you  ;  you 
are  a  king's  son — that  means  a  slave  to  your  position.  Why  has 
Providence  given  hearts  to  kings  as  to  other  men?  Why  do  we 
thirst  so  for  love?  as  the  intoxicating  drink  is  always  denied  us, 
and  we  dare  not  drink  it  even  when  offered  by  the  most  bewitching 
enchantress  I" 

Involuntarily  his  eye  rested  upon  tlie  beautiful  picture  of  Barba- 
rina.  But  he  would  have  no  pity  with  himself,  as  he  dared  not 
show  mercy  to  his  brother.     Seizing  the  silver  bell,  he  rang  it  hastily. 

"  Take  that  picture  from  the  wall,  and  carry  it  immediately  to 
the  inspector,  and  tell  him  to  hang  it  in  the  picture-gallery, "  said 
Frederick. 

He  looked  on  quietly  as  the  servant  took  the  picture  down  and 
carried  it  from  the  room,  then  sighed  and  gazed  long  at  the  place 
where  it  had  himg. 

"  Empty  and  cold !  Tlie  last  token  of  my  youth  is  gone  I  I  am 
now  the  king,  and,  with  God's  blessing,  will  be  the  father  of  my 
people. " 


CHAPTER    II. 

PRINCE  HENRY. 

Pbincb  Henry  sat  quiet  and  motionless  in  his  lonely  room  ;  dark 
thoughts  seemed  to  trouble  him ;  his  brow  was  clouded,  his  lips 
compressed.     Had  you  not  known  him,  you  would  have  taken  him 


PRINCE  HENRY.  5 

for  the  king,  so  great  was  the  resemblance  of  the  two  brothers ;  but 
it  was  only  an  outward  resemblance.  The  prince  had  not  the  spir- 
itual expression,  his  eyes  had  not  the  passionate  fire,  his  face  (beau- 
tiful as  it  was)  wanted  the  fascinating  geniality,  the  sparkling 
inspiration,  that  at  all  times  lighted  the  king's  coimtenance  like  a 
sunbeam. 

The  prince  possessed  a  greater  mind,  a  clearer  understanding, 
but  he  wanted  soul  and  poetic  feeling,  and  allowed  himself  at  times 
to  ridicule  his  brother's  poetic  efforts.  The  king,  knowing  this,  was 
inclined  to  regard  the  shortcomings  of  the  prince  as  a  determined 
contempt  and  resistance  to  his  command  ;  and  as  the  prince  became 
more  reckless  and  more  indifferent,  he  became  more  severe  and 
harsh.  Thus  the  struggle  commenced  that  had  existed  for  some 
time  between  the  two  brothers. 

For  the  last  four  days  the  prince  had  been  in  arrest  for  disobeying 
orders,  but  the  hour  of  his  release  was  approaching,  and  he  awaited 
it  with  impatience. 

The  bell  of  the  nearest  church  had  just  announced  the  hour  of 
six.  The  door  opened  immediately,  and  an  oflScer,  in  the  name  of 
the  king,  pronounced  his  arrest  at  an  end. 

The  prince  answered  with  a  low  bow,  and  remained  seated, 
pointing  haughtily  to  the  door ;  but  as  the  officer  left  him  he  arose 
and  paced  hastily  to  and  fro. 

"  He  treats  me  like  a  school-boy, "  he  murmured  ;  "  but  I  shall 
show  him  that  I  have  a  will  of  my  own !  I  will  not  be  intimidated 
— I  will  not  submit ;  and  if  the  king  does  not  cease  to  annoy  me,  if 
he  continues  to  forget  that  I  am  not  a  slave,  but  son  and  brother  of 
a  king,  no  motives  shall  restrain  me,  and  I  also  will  forget,  as  he 
does,  that  I  am  a  prince,  and  remember  only  that  I  am  a  free, 
responsible  man.  He  wishes  me  to  marry,  and  therefore  has  me 
followed,  and  surrounds  me  with  spies.  He  wishes  to  force  me  to 
marry.     Well,  I  will  marry,  but  I  will  choose  my  own  wife  !" 

The  prince  had  just  made  this  resolve,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  the  servant  announced  that  Messrs.  Kalkreuth  and  Kaphengst 
awaited  his  commands. 

He  bade  them  enter,  and  advancing  smilingly  gave  them  his  hand. 

"Welcome!  welcome!"  he  said;  "the  cage  is  open,  and  I  may 
enjoy  a  little  air  and  sunshine ;  let  us  not  delay  to  make  use  of  this 
opportunity.     Our  horses  shall  be  saddled. " 

"They  are  already  saddled,  prince,"  said  Baron  Kalkreuth.  "I 
have  ordered  them  to  the  court,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  dark  we  will 
mount  them." 

"  What !  is  it  not  best  that  we  should  mount  before  my  door  and 
ride  openly  away?"  said  the  prince,  wonderingly. 


6  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  It  is  my  opinion  that  is  the  best  plan, "  cried  Barou  Kaphengst, 
laughing  gayly.  "  Every  one  will  believe  your  highness  to  be  simply 
taking  a  ride,  while  curiosity  would  be  raised  if  we  left  the  city  on 
foot." 

"I  think  leaving  in  the  dark,  and  on  foot,  looks  as  if  I  were 
afraid, "  said  the  prince,  thoughtfully. 

"  Secrecy  is  good  for  priests  and  old  women,  but  not  for  us, "  cried 
Kaphengst. 

"Secrecy  suits  all  who  wish  to  do  wrong,"  said  Kalkreuth, 
earnestly. 

The  prince  glanced  hastily  at  him.  "  You  believe,  then,  we  are 
about  to  do  wrong?" 

"  I  dare  not  speak  of  your  highness,  but  we  two  are  certainly 
doing  wrong;  we  are  about  to  commit  an  act  of  insubordination. 
But  still,  my  prince,  I  am  ready  to  do  so,  as  your  highness  wishes 
us  to  accompany  you. " 

The  prince  did  not  answer,  but  stepped  to  the  window,  and  looked 
out  thoughtfully  and  silently.  In  a  few  moments  he  returned,  look- 
ing calm  and  resolute. 

"  Kalkreuth  is  right — we  were  going  to  do  wrong,  and  we  must 
avoid  it.  1  shall  write  to  the  king,  and  ask  leave  for  you  and  myself 
to  go  to  Berlin. " 

"That  is,  unfortunately,  impossible, "  said  a  sweet  voice  behind 
him,  and  as  the  prince  turned  he  saw  the  smiling  face  of  PoUnitz. 
"I beg  pardon,  your  highness,  for  having  entered  unannounced,  but 
you  allowed  me  to  come  at  this  hour  and  give  you  an  accotmt  of  the 
commissions  you  gave  me. " 

"  Why  do  you  say  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  leave  of  the  king  to- 
day?" asked  Henry,  hastily. 

"Because  his  majesty  is  already  in  the  concert-saloon,  and  your 
highness  knows  that  he  has  strictly  forbidden  any  one  to  disturb  him 
there. " 

"We  shall,  then,  have  to  give  up  our  plan  and  remain  here," 
said  the  prince. 

Elaphengst  glanced  angrily  and  threateningly  at  his  friend. 

"And  why  should  your  highness  do  this?"  asked  Pollnitz,  aston- 
ished. "  All  your  preparations  are  made,  all  your  commands  fulfilled. 
I  have  procured  your  costumes ;  no  one  will  recognize  you.  and  if 
they  should,  would  not  dare  to  betray  you  to  the  king.  Only  two 
persons  know  that  you  are  to  visit  the  ball,  the  Prince  of  Prussia, 
and  a  lovely  lady,  whose  beautiful  eyes  were  misty  with  tears  when 
I  delivered  her  your  message.  'Tell  the  prince, '  she  murmured,  in 
a  tender  voice,  'I  will  await  him  there,  even  if  I  knew  the  king 
would  crush  me  with  his  anger. '" 


PRINCE  HENRY.  7 

The  prince  blushed  with  joy.  "  And  you  say  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  see  the  king?" 

"  Impossible,  my  prince. " 

"  Well,  we  will  have  to  renounce  it, "  said  the  prince,  sighing. 

"  Renounce  seeing  the  king,  yes  I  for  he  will  not  leave  his  rooms 
in  Sans-Souci  to-day. " 

"  Then  we  would  be  entirely  safe  ;  he  would  not  notice  our  depar- 
ture,"  said  Kaphengst,  quickly. 

"  Entirely  safe, '"  said  Pollnitz. 

"  That  is,  if  Baron  Pollnitz  does  not  himself  inform  the  king, " 
said  Baron  Kalkreuth,  whose  quick,  clear  glance  rested  upon  tlie 
smiling  face  of  the  courtier,  and  appeared  to  read  his  inmost 
thoughts. 

Baron  Pollnitz  cast  a  suspicious  and  angry  glance  at  Kalkreuth. 
"  I  did  not  know  that  borrowing  money  from  you  gave  you  the  right 
to  speak  i-udely  to  me  !" 

"  Silence !  gentlemen, "  cried  the  prince,  who,  until  now,  had 
stood  quietly  struggling  with  his  own  wishes.  "Take  your  cloaks 
and  let  us  walk.  Did  you  not  say  that  horses  were  awaiting  us  at 
the  door.  Baron  Kalkreuth  ?" 

"  I  said  so,  your  highness. " 

"  And  you  Pollnitz  ?  Did  you  not  say  that  three  costiunes  awaited 
us  in  Berlin?" 

"  Yes,  your  highness. " 

"  Well,  then, "  said  the  prince,  smiling,  "  we  must  not  allow  the 
horses  and  costumes  to  await  us  any  longer.  Come,  gentlemen,  we 
will  ride  to  Berlin. " 

"Really  it  was  hard  to  get  him  off,"  murmured  Pollnitz,  as  he 
regained  the  street,  and  saw  the  three  young  men  fading  in  the  dis- 
tance. "The  good  prince  had  quite  a  dutiful  emotion  ;  if  the  king 
only  knew  it,  he  would  forgive  him  all,  and  renounce  the  idea 
of  his  marriage.  But  that  would  not  suit  me — my  debts  would 
not  be  paid !  I  must  not  tell  the  king  of  his  brother's  inward 
struggle. " 

"Well!"  said  the  king,  as  Pollnitz  entered,  "has  my  brother 
really  gone  to  Berlin  ?" 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  and  accompanied  by  the  two  Messieurs — " 

"Silence !"  cried  the  king,  hastily  ;  " I  do  not  wish  to  know  their 
names,  I  should  have  to  punish  them  also.  He  has  then  gone,  and 
without  any  hesitation,  any  reluctance?" 

"Yes,  sire,  without  hesitation.  He  thinks  he  has  the  right  to 
go  where  he  pleases,  and  to  amuse  himself  as  he  can. " 

"Order  the  carriage,  Pollnitz, "  said  the  king.  "Without  doubt 
my  brother  has  taken  the  shortest  road  to  Berlin?" 


8  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  Then  there  is  no  danger  of  our  meeting  them  and  being  recog- 
nized ;  and  as  we  have  relays  on  the  road,  we  will  reach  Berlin  be- 
fore them. " 


CHAPTER  III. 

LOUISE     VON     KLEIST. 

Madame  von  Kleist  was  alone  in  her  boudoir.  She  had  just 
completed  her  toilet,  and  was  viewing  hei-self  with  considerable 
pleasure  in  a  large  Venetian  glass.  She  had  reason  to  be  pleased. 
The  costume  of  an  odalisque  became  her  wonderfully ;  suited  her 
luxuriant  beauty,  her  large,  dreamy  blue  eyes,  her  full  red  lips,  her 
slender,  swaying  form.  At  twenty-eight,  Louise  von  Kleist  was 
still  a  sparkling  beauty  ;  the  many  trials  and  sorrows  she  had  passed 
through  had  not  scattered  the  roses^  from  her  cheek,  nor  banished 
youth  from  her  heart. 

Louise  von  Kleist  resembled  greatly  the  little  Louise  von 
Schwerin  of  earlier  days— the  little  dreamer  who  found  it  romantic 
to  love  a  gardener,  and  was  quite  ready  to  flee  with  him  to  a  para- 
dise of  love.  The  king's  watchfulness  saved  her  from  this  romantic 
folly,  and  gave  her  another  husband.  This  unhappy  match  was 
now  at  an  end.  Louise  was  again  free.  She  still  felt  in  her  heart 
riome  of  the  wild  love  of  romance  and  adventure  of  the  little  Louise  ; 
she  was  the  same  daring,  dreamy,  impressible  Louise,  only  now  she 
was  less  innocent.  The  little  coquette  from  instinct  was  changed 
into  a  coquette  from  knowledge. 

She  stood  before  the  glass  and  surveyed  once  more  her  appear- 
ance ;  then  acknowledged  with  a  pleased  smile  that  she  was  beauti- 
ful enough  to  fascinate  all  men,  to  arouse  in  all  hearts  a  painful 
longing. 

"But  I  shall  love  no  one  but  the  prince,"  she  said,  "and  when 
my  power  over  him  is  sufficient  to  induce  him  to  marry  me,  I  shall 
reward  him  by  my  faith,  and  entire  submission  to  his  wishes.  Oh  ! 
I  shall  be  a  virtuous  wife,  a  true  and  faithful  mother ;  and  my 
lovely  little  Camilla  shall  find  in  her  mother  a  good  and  noble  ex- 
ample. I  shall  promise  this  to  my  angel  with  my  farewell  kiss  ;  and 
then— to  the  ball !" 

She  entered  the  next  chamber,  and  stood  at  her  child's  bed. 
What  a  strange  sight !  This  woman,  in  a  fantastic,  luxuriant  cos- 
tume, bending  over  the  cot  of  the  little  girl,  with  such  tender,  pious 
looks,  with  folded  hands,  and  soft,  murmuring  lips,  uttering  a 
prayer  or  holy  wish  1 


LOUISE  VON  KLEIST.  9 

"How  beautiful  she  is!"  murmured  Louise,  not  dreaming  that 
her  own  beauty  at  this  moment  beamed  with  touching  splendor — 
that  mother  love  had  changed  the  alluring  coquette  into  an  adorable 
saint — "  how  beautiful  she  is  !" 

The  gay,  ringing  laughter  of  her  daughter  interrupted  her ;  the 
child  opened  her  large  black  eyes,  and  looked  amused. 

"You  naughty  child,  you  were  not  asleep, "  said  Louise. 

"No,  mamma,  I  was  not  asleep  ;  I  was  playiug  comedy." 

"Ah!  and  who  taught  you  to  play  comedy,  you  silly  child?" 
said  Louise,  tenderlj*. 

The  child  looked  earnestly  before  her  for  a  few  moments  as  chil- 
dren are  wont  to  do  when  a  question  surprises  them. 

"I  believe,  mamma,"  she  said,  slowly — "I  believe  I  learned  it 
from  you. " 

"From  me,  Camilla?    When  have  you  seen  me  act?" 

"Oh,  very  often,"  she  cried,  laughing.  "Just  a  few  days  ago, 
mamma,  don't  you  remember  when  we  were  laughing  and  talking 
BO  merrily  together,  Pi'ince  Henry  was  announced,  and  you  sent  me 
into  the  next  room,  but  the  door  was  open,  and  I  saw  very  well  tliat 
you  made  a  sad  face,  and  I  heard  tlie  prince  ask  you  how  you  were, 
and  you  answered,  '  I  am  sick,  your  highness,  and  how  could  it  be 
otherwise,  as  I  am  always  sad  or  weeping?'  Now,  mother,  was  not 
that  acting?" 

Louise  did  not  answer.  Breathing  heavily,  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  heart,  for  she  felt  a  strange  sorrow  and  indescribable  fear. 

Camilla  continued,  "  Oh !  and  I  saw  how  tenderly  the  prince 
looked  at  you  ;  how  he  kissed  you,  and  said  you  were  as  lovely  as  an 
angel.  Oh,  mamma,  I  too  shall  be  beautiful,  and  beloved  by  a 
prince !" 

"  To  be  beautiful,  darling,  you  must  be  good  and  virtuous, "  said 
the  fair  odalisque,  earnestly. 

Little  Camilla  arose  in  her  bed ;  the  white  gown  fell  from  her 
shoulders  and  exposed  her  soft  childish  form,  her  brown  ringlets 
curled  down  her  neck  and  lost  themselves  in  her  lace-covered  dress. 
The  chandelier  that  hung  from  the  ceiling  lighted  her  lovely  face, 
and  made  the  gold  and  silver  embroidered  robes  and  jewels  of  her 
mother  sparkle  brilliantly. 

At  this  moment,  as  with  folded  arms  she  glanced  up  at  her 
mother,  she  looked  like  an  angel,  but  she  had  already  dangerous 
and  earthly  thoughts  in  her  heart. 

"  Mamma, "  she  said,  "  why  should  I  be  virtuous,  when  you  are 
not?" 

Louise  trembled,  and  looked  terrified  at'  her  daughter.     "Who 
told  you  I  was  not  virtuous?" 
9         2 


10         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  PAMILV. 

"My  poor,  dear  papa  told  me  when  he  was  here  the  last  time. 
Oh,  he  told  me  a  great  deal,  mamma!  He  told,"  continued  the 
child,  with  a  sly  smile,  "  how  you  loved  a  beautiful  gardener,  and 
ran  off  with  him,  and  how  he,  at  the  command  of  the  king,  married 
you  and  saved  you  from  shame ;  and  he  said  you  were  not  at  all 
grateful,  but  had  often  betrayed  and  deceived  him,  and,  because  he 
was  so  vmhappy  with  you,  he  drank  so  much  wine  to  forget  his 
sorrow.  Oh,  mamma,  you  don't  know  how  poor  papa  cried  as  he 
told  me  all  this,  and  besought  me  not  to  become  like  you,  but  to  be 
good,  that  every  one  might  love  and  respect  me  !" 

Whilst  Camilla  spoke,  her  mother  had  sunk  slowly,  as  if  crushed, 
to  the  floor ;  and,  with  her  face  buried  in  the  child's  bed,  sobbed 
aloud. 

"Don't  cry,  mamma,"  said  Camilla,  pleadingly;  "believe  me, 
I  will  not  do  as  papa  says,  and  I  will  not  be  so  stupid  as  to  live  in  a 
small  town,  where  it  is  so  still  and  lonesome." 

As  her  mother  still  wept,  Camilla  continued,  as  if  to  quiet  her  : 
"  I  shall  be  like  you,  mamma  ;  indeed,  I  will.  Oh,  you  should  but 
see  how  I  watch  you,  and  notice  how  you  smile  at  all  the  gentlemen, 
what  soft  eyes  you  make,  and  then  again,  how  cold  and  proud  you 
are,  and  then  look  at  them  so  tenderly  !  Oh,  I  have  noticed  all,  and 
I  shall  do  just  the  same,  and  I  will  run  away  with  a  gardener,  but 
I  will  not  let  papa  catch  me — no,  not  I. " 

"Hush,  child,  hush!"  cried  the  mother,  rising,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, from  her  knees  ;  "  you  must  become  a  good  and  virtuous  girl, 
and  never  run  away  with  a  man.  Forget  what  yovu*  bad  father  has 
told  you  ;  you  know  he  hates  me,  and  has  told  you  all  these  false- 
hoods to  make  you  do  the  same. " 

"Mamma,  can  you  swear  that  it  is  not  true?" 

"Yes,  my  child,  I  can  swear  it." 

"You  did  not  run  off  with  a  gardener?" 

"  No,  my  child.  Have  I  not  told  you  that  a  virtuous  girl  never 
runs  away  ?" 

"You  did  not  make  papa  unhappy,  and,  being  his  wife,  love 
other  men?" 

"  No,  my  daughter. " 

"Mamma,"  said  the  child,  after  a  long  pause,  "can  you  give  me 
your  right  hand,  and  swear  you  did  not?" 

Louise  hesitated  a  moment ;  a  cold  shiver  ran  through  her,  she 
felt  as  if  she  was  about  to  perjure  herself ;  but  as  she  looked  into  the 
beautiful  face  of  her  child,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  with  a 
strange  expression,  she  overcame  her  unwillingness. 

"  Here  is  my  hand — I  swear  that  all  your  father  told  you  is  false !" 

Camilla  laughed  gleefully.     "  Oh,  mamma,  I  have  caught  you : 


LOUISE   VON  KLEIST.  H 

you  always  want  me  to  tell  the  truth,  and  never  give  my  right  hand 
when  a  thing  is  not  true,  and  now  you  have  done  it  yourself." 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  said  the  mother,  trembling. 

"You  gave  rae  your  right  hand,  and  swore  that  all  papa  told  me 
was  false;  and  I  say  it  is  true,  and  you  have  sworn  falsely." 

"Why  do  you  believe  that,  Camilla  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  believe  it,  I  know  it,"  said  the  child,  with  a  sly  smile. 
"When  papa  spoke  to  you,  for  the  last  time,  and  told  you  good-by 
forever,  he  told  you  the  same  he  had  told  me.  Oh!  I  was  there  and 
heard  all;  you  did  not  see  me  slip  into  the  room  and  hide  behind 
the  fire-place.  Papa  told  you  that  you  had  been  the  cause  of  all  his 
unhappiness  and  shame ;  that  from  the  day  you  had  run  off  with  the 
gardener  and  he,  at  the  king's  command,  went  after  you,  and  mar- 
ried you — from  that  day,  he  had  been  a  lost  man,  and  when  he  said 
that,  you  cried,  but  did  not  tell  him,  as  you  told  me,  that  it  was  not 
true." 

Louise  did  not  answer.  This  last  taunt  had  crushed  her  heart, 
and  silenced  her.  Still  leaning  on  the  bed,  she  looked  at  her  child 
with  painful  tenderness.  Camilla's  mocking  laughter  had  pierced 
her  soul  as  with  a  dagger. 

"  Lost,"  she  murmured,  "both  of  us  lost!" 

With  passionate  despair  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  child, 
and  pressed  her  closely  ;  kissed  her  wildly  again  and  again,  and 
covered  her  face  with  burning  tears. 

"No,  Camilla,  no!  you  shall  not  be  lost,  you  must  remain  good 
and  pure!  Every  child  has  its  guardian  angel  ;  pray,  my  child, 
pray  that  your  angel  may  watch  over  you !  " 

She  pressed  her  again  in  her  arms,  then  returned  to  her  chamber, 
sadder  and  more  hopeless  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

But  this  unusual  sadness  commenced  to  annoy  her  ;  her  heart 
was  not  accustomed  to  feel  sorrow,  and  her  remorseful,  dreary  feel- 
ing made  her  shudder.  "K  the  carriage  would  but  come!"  she 
murmured,  and  then,  as  if  to  excuse  her  thoughtlessness,  she  added, 
"it  is  now  my  hoJy  duty  to  listen  to  thb  prince  ;  I  must  regain  the 
respect  of  my  child.  Yes,  yes,  I  must  become  the  wife  of  Henry  1 
I  can  accomplish  this,  for  the  prince  loves  me  truly." 

And  now,  she  was  again  the  coquette,  whose  captivating  smile 
harmonized  perfectly  with  her  alluring  costume — no  longer  the  ten- 
der mother,  no  longer  the  sinner  suffering  from  repentance  and  self- 
reproach. 

She  stood  before  the  glass,  and  arranged  her  disordered  dress  and 
smoothed  her  dishevelled  hair. 

"I  must  be  be^vitching  and  fascinating,"  she  murmured,  with  a 
smile  that  showed  two  rows  of  pearl-like  teeth  ;   "the   prince  must 


12         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

gain  courage  from  my  glance,  to  offer  me  his  hand.     Oh,  I  know  he 
is  quite  prepared  to  do  bo,  if  it  were  only  to  annoy  his  brother !" 

As  she  saw  the  carriage  drive  up,  she  exclaimed,  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  The  battle  begins — to  victory !" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AT  THE  MASKED    BALL. 

The  feast  had  commenced.  As  Louise  von  Kleist,  the  beautiful 
odalisque,  entered  the  dancing-saloon,  she  was  almost  blinded  by 
the  gay  and  sparkling  assembly.  The  fairy-like  and  fantastic 
robes  sparkled  with  gold  and  jewels.  The  sea  of  light  thrown  from 
the  crystal  chandelier  upon  the  mirrors  and  ornaments  of  the  brill- 
iant saloon  dazzled  the  eye.  The  entertainments  of  the  Prince  of 
Prussia  were  renowned  for  their  taste  and  splendor. 

Unrecognized,  the  beautiful  Louise  slipped  through  the  gay  as- 
sembly of  masks,  and,  when  detecting  some  friends  under  the  muflfled 
forms  of  their  disguise,  she  murmured  their  names,  and  some  mis 
chievous  and  witty  remark ;  then  springing  gayly  on  to  shoot  again 
her  arrow,  and  excite  astonishment  and  surprise. 

"  Oh,  that  life  were  a  masked  ball  I"  she  murmured  softly  to  her- 
self, "  mysterious  and  sweet !  where  you  find  more  than  you  seek, 
and  guess  more  than  is  known.  No  one  recognizes  me  here.  The 
brave  and  handsome  Count  Troussel,  who  is  leaning  against  that 
pillar,  and  casting  such  melancholy  glances  through  the  crowd, 
hunting  for  the  one  his  lieart  adores,  never  dreams  that  she  is  stand- 
ing opposite  him,  and  is  laughing  at  his  perplexity.  No,  he  does 
not  recognize  me,  and  no  one  knows  my  costume  but  the  prince  and 
PoUnitz,  and  as  they  have  not  yet  found  me,  I  conclude  they 
have  not  arrived.  I  will  therefore  amuse  myself  during  their  ab. 
sence. " 

She  was  just  approaching  the  sentimental  cavalier,  when  she 
suddenly  felt  her  arm  touched,  and,  turning  around,  saw  two  masks 
wrapped  in  dark  dominoes  before  her. 

"  Beautiful  odalisque,  I  bring  you  your  sultan, "  murmured  one 
of  them,  in  whom  she  recognized  Baron  Pollnitz. 

"And  where  is  my  sultan?"  she  asked. 

"Here,"  said  the  second  mask,  offering  the  beautiful  lady  his 
arm.  Louise  saw  those  glorious  eyes  beaming  upon  her  through  his 
mask — eyes  which  the  king  and  Prince  Henry  alone  possessed. 

"Ah,  my  prince !"  she  murmured  softly  and  reproachfully,  "you 
see  that  it  is  I  who  have  waited. " 


AT  THE  MASKED  BALL  13 

The  prince  did  not  answer,  but  conducted  her  hastily  through  the 
crowd.  They  had  soon  reached  the  end  of  the  saloon.  A  small 
flight  of  steps  led  them  to  a  little  boudoir  opening  on  a  balcony. 
Into  this  boudoir  PoUnitz  led  the  silent  pair,  then  bowing  low  he 
left  them. 

"My  God  !  your  highness,  if  we  should  be  surprised  here  !" 

"Fear  nothing,  we  will  not  be  surprised.  PoUnitz  guards  the 
door.  Now,  as  we  are  alone  and  undistiu*bed,  let  us  lay  aside  our 
disguises." 

Thus  speaking,  the  supposed  prince  removed  his  mask  and  laid 
it  upon  the  table. 

"  Tlie  king  1"  cried  Louise,  ten-ified  and  stepping  back. 

The  king's  eyes  rested  upon  her  with  a  piercing  glance.  "  What !" 
he  asked,  "are  you  still  acting?  You  appear  astonished;  and  still 
you  must  have  known  me.  Who  but  the  king  would  show  the 
beautiful  Madame  von  Kleist  such  an  honor?  In  what  other  cavalier 
could  you  place  such  perfect  confidence  as  to  accompany  him  into 
this  lonely  boudoir?  with  whom  but  the  king  could  you  have  trusted 
your  fair  fame?  You  need  not  be  alarmed  ;  to  be  in  my  presence  is 
to  be  under  my  protection — the  kind  guardianship  of  your  king.  I 
thank  you  that  you  knew  me,  and,  knowing  me,  followed  me  trust- 
ingly. " 

The  searching  glance  of  the  king  alarmed  Louise  ;  his  mocking 
words  bewildered  her,  and  she  was  incapable  of  reply. 

She  bowed  silently,  and  allowed  herself  to  be  conducted  to  the 
divan. 

"  Sit  down,  and  let  us  chat  awhile, "  said  the  king.  "  You  know 
I  liate  the  noise  of  a  feast,  and  love  to  retire  into  some  corner,  un- 
noticed and  unseen.  I  had  no  sooner  discovered  the  fair  Louise 
under  this  charming  costume,  than  I  knew  I  had  found  good  com- 
pany. I  ordered  PoUnitz  to  seek  out  for  us  some  quiet  spot,  where 
we  might  converse  freely.     Commence,  therefore. " 

"Of  what  shall  I  speak,  your  majesty?"  said  Louise,  confused 
and  frightened.  She  knew  well  that  the  king  had  not  found  her  by 
chance,  but  had  sought  her  with  a  determined  purpose. 

"Oh !  that  is  a  question  whose  naivete  reminds  me  of  the  little 
Louise  Schwerin  of  earlier  days.  Well,  let  us  sjieak  on  that  subject 
which  interests  most  deeply  all  who  know  you ;  let  us  speak  of 
your  happiness.  You  sigli.  Have  you  already  paid  your  tribute? 
Do  you  realize  the  fleetness  of  all  earthly  bliss?" 

"  Ah !  your  majesty,  an  unhappy  marriage  is  the  most  bitter 
offering  that  can  be  made  to  experience,"  sighed  Madame  von 
Kli-^st.  "  My  life  was  indeed  wretched  until  released  by  your  kind- 
ness from  that  bondage. " 


U         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Ah,  yes,  it  is  true  you  are  divorced.  When  and  upon  whom 
will  you  now  bestow  this  small,  white  hand?" 

Louise  looked  up  astonished.  "What!"  she  stammered,  con- 
fused, "your  majesty  means — " 

"  That  you  will  certainly  marry  again.  As  beautiful  a  lady  as 
you  will  always  be  surrounded  by  lovers,  and  I  sincerely  hope  that 
you  will  marry.  You  should  go  forward  as  an  example  to  my 
brothei-s,  your  youthful  playmates,  and  I  will  tell  my  brother  Henry 
that  marriage  is  not  so  bad  a  thing,  as  the  beautiful  Madame  von 
Kleist  has  tried  it  for  the  second  time. " 

"  I  doubt  very  much,  sire, "  said  Louise,  timidly,  "  if  the  example 
of  so  insignificant  a  person  would  have  the  desired  effect  upon  the 
prince. " 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice.  The  prince  has  too  strong  an  ad- 
miration for  you,  not  to  be  influenced  by  your  encouraging  example. 
My  brother  must  and  shall  marry  according  to  his  birth.  I  am 
assured  that,  contrary  to  my  wishes  and  commands,  he  is  about  to 
make  a  secret  and  illegitimate  marriage.  I  am  not  yet  acquainted 
with  the  name  of  his  wily  mistress,  but  I  shall  learn  it,  and,  when 
once  noted  in  my  memory,  woe  be  unto  her,  for  I  shall  never 
acknowledge  such  a  marriage,  and  I  shall  take  care  that  his  mis- 
tress is  not  received  at  court — she  shall  be  regarded  as  a  dishonored 
woman. " 

"  Your  majesty  is  very  stern  and  pitiless  toward  the  poor  prince, " 
said  Madame  Kleist,  who  had  succeeded  in  suppressing  her  own 
emotions,  and,  following  the  lead  of  the  king,  she  was  desirous  to 
let  it  appear  that  the  subject  was  one  of  no  personal  interest  to  her- 
self. 

"  No, "  said  tlie  king,  "  I  am  not  cruel  and  not  pitiless.  I  must 
forget  that  I  am  a  brother,  and  remember  only  I  am  a  king,  not  only 
for  the  good  of  my  family,  but  for  the  prosperity  of  my  people. 
My  brother  must  marry  a  princess  of  wealth  and  influence.  Tell 
Prince  Henry  this.  Now, "  said  the  king,  with  an  engaging  smile, 
"  let  us  speak  of  your  lovely  self.  You  will,  of  course,  marry  again. 
Have  you  not  confidence  enough  in  me  to  tell  me  the  name  of  your 
happy  and  favored  lover?" 

"Sire,"  said  Louise,  smiling,  "I  do  not  know  it  myself,  and  to 
show  what  unbounded  confidence  I  have  in  your  majesty,  I  modestly 
confess  that  I  am  not  positively'  certain  whether  among  my  many 
followers  there  is  one  who  desires  to  be  the  successor  of  Kleist.  It 
is  easy  to  have  many  lovers,  but  somewhat  difficult  to  many 
suitably." 

"We  need  a  marrying  man  to  chase  away  the  crowd  of  lovers," 
said  the  king,  smiling.     "Think  awhile— let  your  lovers  pass  in 


AT  THE  MASKED  BALL.  15 

review  before  you — perhaps  you  may  find  among  them  one  who  is 
both  ardent  and  desirable. " 

Louise  remained  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments.  The  king  ob- 
served her  closely. 

"Well,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "have  you  made  your  selection?" 

Madame  von  Kleist  sighed,  and  her  beautiful  bright  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  She  took  leave  of  her  most  cherished  and  ambitious 
dream — bade  farewell  to  her  future  of  regal  pomp  and  splendor. 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  have  found  an  epouseur,  who  only  needs  encourage- 
ment, to  offer  me  his  heart  and  hand. " 

"  Is  he  of  good  family  ?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Military?" 

"Yes,  sire.  He  wears  only  a  captain's  epaulets.  Your  majesty 
sees  that  I  am  modest. " 

"  On  the  day  of  his  marriage  he  shall  be  major.  When  the  Church 
pronounces  her  blessing,  the  king's  blessing  shall  not  be  wanting. 
We  are,  of  course,  agreed.     When  will  you  be  engaged?" 

"  Sire,  that  depends  upon  my  lover,  and  when  I  succeed  in  bring- 
ing him  to  terms. " 

"  We  will  say  in  eight  days  You  see  I  am  anxious  to  become 
speedily  acquainted  with  one  blissful  mortal,  and  I  think  that  the 
husband  of  the  beautiful  Madame  Kleist  will  be  supremely  happy. 
In  eight  days,  then,  you  will  be  engaged,  and,  to  complete  your  good 
work,  you  must  announce  this  happy  fact  to  my  brother  Henry.  Of 
course,  he  must  not  even  surmise  that  you  sacrifice  yourself  in  order 
to  set  him  a  good  example.  No,  you  will  complete  your  noble  work, 
and  tell  him  that  a  love  which  you  could  not  control  induced  you  to 
take  this  step  ;  and  that  he  may  not  doubt  your  words,  you  will  tell 
your  story  cheerfully — yes,  joyously. " 

"  Sire,  it  is  too  much — I  cannot  do  it, "  cried  Madame  von  Kleist. 
"  It  is  enough  to  trample  upon  my  own  heart ;  your  majesty  cannot 
desire  me  to  give  the  prince  his  death-blow. " 

The  king's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  but  he  controlled  himself. 

"His  death!"  he  repeated,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "as  if  men 
died  of  such  small  wounds.  You  know  better  yourself  You  know 
that  the  grave  of  one  love  is  the  cradle  of  another.  Be  wise,  and  do 
as  I  tell  you  :  in  eight  days  you  will  be  engaged,  and  then  you  will 
have  the  kindness  to  acquaint  Prince  Henry  with  your  happy  pros- 
pects. " 

"  Ah,  sire,  do  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  ask  this  of  me, "  cried  Louise, 
gliding  from  the  divan  upon  her  knees,  "be  merciful.  I  am  ready 
to  obey  the  commands  of  my  king,  to  make  the  sacrifice  that  is 
gsked  of  me — let  it  not  be  too  great  a  one.     Your  majesty  asks  that 


16  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

I  shall  draw  down  the  contempt  of  the  man  I  love  upon  myself ;  that 
this  man  must  not  only  give  me  up,  but  scorn  me.  You  require  too 
much.  This  is  mere  than  the  strongest,  bravest  heart  can  endure. 
Your  majesty  knows  that  the  prince  loves  me  passionately.  Ah, 
sire,  your  brother  would  have  forfeited  his  rank  and  your  favor  by 
marrying  me,  but  he  would  have  been  a  happy  man  ;  and  I  ask  the 
king  if  that  is  not,  at  last,  the  best  result?  Are  you,  sire,  content 
and  happy  since  you  trampled  your  breathing,  loving  heart  to  death 
at  the  foot  of  the  throne?  You  command  your  brother  to  do  as  you 
have  done.  Well,  sire,  I  submit — not  only  to  resign  the  prince,  but 
to  marry  again,  to  marry  without  love.  Perhaps  my  soul  will  be 
lost  by  this  perjury,  but  what  matters  that — it  is  a  plaything  in  the 
hands  of  the  king?  He  may  break  my  heart,  but  it  shall  not  be  dis- 
honored and  trodden  in  the  dust.  The  prince  shall  cease  to  love  me, 
but  I  will  not  be  despised  by  him.  He  shall  not  think  me  a  misera- 
ble coquette,  despise,  and  laugh  at  me.  Now,  sire,  you  can  crush  me 
in  your  anger.  I  have  said  what  I  had  to  say — you  know  my  decision. " 

She  bowed  her  head  almost  to  the  eai-th  ;  motionless,  kneeling  at 
the  foot  of  the  king,  her  hands  folded  on  her  breast,  she  might  in 
reality  have  been  taken  for  an  odalisque  but  that  her  sad,  tearful 
face  was  not  in  unison  with  the  situation  or  costume. 

A  long  pause  ensued — a  solemn,  fearful  pause.  The  king  strug- 
gled with  his  rage,  Louise  with  her  disappointment  and  distress. 
Sounds  of  laughter,  the  gay  notes  of  music  reached  them  from  the 
dancing-saloon.  The  ball  had  commenced,  and  youth  and  beauty 
were  mingling  in  the  dance.  Tliese  sounds  aroused  the  king,  and 
the  sad  contrast  made  Louise  shudder. 

"You  will  not,  then,  comply  with  my  request?"  said  the  king, 
sternly. 

"Sire,  I  cannot  I"  murmured  Louise,  raising  her  hands  implor- 
ingly to  the  king. 

"You  cannot!"  crisd  the  king,  whose  face  glowed  with  anger ; 
"you  cannot,  that  means  you  will  not,  because  your  vain,  coquettish 
heart  will  not  resign  the  love  of  the  prince.  You  submit  to  resign 
his  hand,  because  you  must ;  but  you  wish  to  retain  his  love :  lie 
must  think  of  you  as  a  heavenly  ideal,  to  be  adored  and  longed  for, 
placed  amongst  the  stars  for  worship.  Ah,  madame,  you  are  not 
willing  to  make  the  gulf  between  you  impassable !  You  say  you 
wish,  at  least,  to  retain  the  respect  of  Prince  Henry.  I  ask  you, 
madame,  what  you  have  done  to  deserve  his  respect?  You  were  an 
ungrateful  and  undutifnl  daughter ;  you  did  not  think  of  the  shame 
and  sorrow  you  prepared  for  your  parents,  when  you  arranged  your 
flight  with  the  gardener.  I  succeeded  in  rescuing  you  from  dishonor 
by  marrying  you  to  »  brave  and  nobl^  cavalier.     It  depended  upon 


AT  THE  MASKED  BALL.  17 

you  entirely  to  gain  his  love  and  respect,  but  you  forgot  your  duty 
as  a  wife,  as  you  had  forgotten  it  as  a  daughter.  You  had  no  pity 
with  the  faults  and  follies  of  your  husband,  you  drove  him  to  de- 
spair. At  last,  to  drown  his  sorrows,  he  became  a  drunkard,  and 
you,  instead  of  remaining  at  his  side  to  encourage  and  counsel  him, 
deserted  him,  and  so  heartlessly  exposed  his  shame  that  I,  to  put  an 
end  to  the  scandal,  permitted  your  divorce.  You  not  only  forgot 
your  duty  as  a  wife  and  daughter,  but  also  as  a  mother.  You  have 
deprived  your  child  of  a  father,  you  have  made  her  an  orphan  ;  you 
have  soiled,  almost  depraved  her  young  soul ;  and  now,  after  all 
this,  you  wish  to  be  adored  and  respected  as  a  saint  by  my  poor 
brother !  No,  madame !  I  shall  know  how  to  save  him  from  this 
delusion  ;  I  shall  tell  to  him  and  the  world  the  history  of  little  Louise 
von  Schwerin  !  Fritz  Wendel  still  lives,  and,  if  you  desire  it,  I  can 
release  him,  and  he  may  tell  his  romantic  story. " 

"  Oh,  for  the  second  time  to-day  I  have  heard  that  hateful  name !" 
cried  Louise ;  "the  past  is  an  avenger  that  pursues  us  mercilessly 
through  our  whole  lives. " 

"  Choose,  madame !"  said  the  king,  after  a  pause  ;  "  will  j^ou 
announce  your  betrothal  to  my  brother  in  a  gay  and  unembarrassed 
tone,  or  shall  I  call  Fritz  Wendel,  that  he  may  sing  the  imhappy 
prince  to  sleep  with  his  romantic  history?" 

Whilst  the  king  spoke,  Louise  had  raised  herself  slowly  from  her 
knees,  and  taken  a  seat  upon  the  divan.  Now  rising,  and  bowing 
lowly,  she  said,  with  trembling  lips  and  tearful  voice  :  "Sire,  lam 
prepared  to  do  all  that  j'ou  wish.  I  shall  announce  my  betrothal  to 
the  prince  oheerfuUy,  and  without  sighs  or  tears.  But  be  merciful, 
and  free  me  forever  from  that  hideous  spectre  which  seems  ever  at 
my  side !" 

"Do  you  mean  poor  Fritz  Wendel?"  said  the  king,  smiling. 
"  Well,  on  the  day  of  your  marriage  I  will  send  him  as  a  soldier  to 
Poland ;  there  he  may  relate  his  love -adventures,  but  no  one  will 
understand  him.     Are  you  content?" 

"I  thank  you,  sire,"  said  Louise,  faintly. 

"Ah,  I  see  our  conversation  has  agitated  you  a  little!"  said  the 
king.  "  Fortunately,  we  are  now  at  an  end.  In  the  next  eight  days, 
remember,  you  will  be  engaged !" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  The  day  of  your  marriage,  I  will  make  your  captain  a  major. 
You  promise  to  tell  my  brother  of  your  engagement,  and  that  it  is 
in  accordance  with  the  warmest  wishes  of  your  heart?" 

"Yes,  sire  ;  and  you  will  banish  the  gardener  forever?" 

"I  will;  but  wait — one  thing  more.  Where  will  you  tell  my 
brother  of  jonr  engagement,  and  before  what;  wituegBes?" 


18  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  At  the  place  and  before  the  witnesses  your  majesty  may  select, " 
said  Madame  von  Kleist. 

Tlie  king  thought  a  moment.  "You  will  do  it  in  my  presence," 
said  he  ;  "I  will  let  you  know  the  time  and  place  through  Pollnitz. 
We  have  arranged  our  little  affairs,  madame,  and  we  will  descend 
to  the  saloon  where,  I  think,  your  epouseur  is  sighing  for  your 
presence. " 

"  Let  him  sigh,  sire !  With  your  permission,  I  should  like  to 
retire. " 

"Go,  madame,  where  you  wish.  Pollnitz  will  conduct  you  to 
your  carriage. " 

He  offered  her  his  hand,  and,  with  a  friendly  bow,  led  her  to  the 
door. 

"Farewell,  madame !    I  believe  we  part  friends?" 

"Sire,"  she  answered,  smiling  faintly,  "I  can  only  say  as  the 
soldiers  do,  'I  thank  you  for  your  gracious  punishment !'" 

She  bowed  and  left  the  room  hastily,  that  the  king  might  not  see 
her  tears. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    8ECEET    CAPTAIN. 

The  king  looked  long  after  her  in  silence ;  at  first  with  an  ex 
pression  of  deep  pity,  but  this  soon  gave  place  to  a  gay,  mocking 
smile. 

"  She  is  not  a  woman  to  take  sorrow  earnestly.  When  mourning 
no  longer  becomes  her,  she  will  lay  it  aside  for  the  rosy  robes  of 
joy.     She  is  a  coquette,  nothing  more.     It  is  useless  to  pity  her." 

He  now  stepped  upon  the  balcony  that  overlooked  the  saloon, 
and  glanced  furtively  from  behind  the  curtains  upon  the  gay  assem- 
bly below.    . 

"  Poor,  foolish  mankind !  how  wise  you  might  be,  if  you  were 
not  so  very  childish — if  you  did  not  seek  joy  and  happiness  precisely 
where  it  is  not  to  be  found !  But  how  is  this?"  said  the  king,  in- 
terrupting himself,  "those  two  giant  forms  at  the  side  of  the  little 
Armenians  are  certainly  Barons  Kalkreuth  and  Kapheng-st,  and  that 
is  my  brother  with  them.  Poor  Henry  !  you  have  made  a  bad  use 
of  your  freedom,  and  must,  therefore,  soon  lose  it.  Al» !  see  how 
searchingly  he  turns  his  head,  seeking  his  beautiful  odalisque!  In 
vain,  my  brother,  in  vain  !  For  to-day,  at  least,  we  have  made  her 
a  repentant  Magdalen  ;  to-morrow  she  will  be  again  a  life-enjoying 
Aspasia.  Ah,  the  prince  separates  himself  from  his  followers.  I 
hftve  a  few  words  to  whisper  in  the  ear  of  the  gay  Kaphengst," 


A  SECRET  CAPTAIN.  19 

The  king  stepped  back  into  the  room,  and  after  resuming  his 
mask,  he  descended  into  the  saloon,  accompanied  by  his  grand 
chamberlain. 

Mirth  and  gayety  reigned ;  the  room  was  crowded  with  masks . 
here  stood  a  group  in  gay  conversation  ;  there  was  dancing  at  the 
other  end  of  the  saloon.  Some  were  listening  to  the  organ- play ei-, 
as  he  sang,  in  comical  Grerman  and  French  verses,  little  incidents 
and  adventures  that  had  occurred  during  the  present  year  at  court, 
bringing  forth  laughter,  confused  silence,  and  blushes.  Some  were 
amusing  themselves  with  the  lively,  witty  chat  of  the  son  of  the 
Prince  of  Prussia,  the  little  ten-year-old,  P*i'ince  Frederick  William. 
He  was  dressed  as  the  God  of  Love,  with  bow  and  quiver,  dancing 
ai'ound,  and,  with  an  early-ripened  instinct,  directing  his  aiTOw  at 
the  most  beautifol  and  fascinating  ladies  in  the  room. 

Pi'ince  Henry  paid  no  attention  to  all  this  ;  his  wandering  glance 
sought  only  the  beautiful  Louise,  and  a  deep  sigh  escaped  him  at 
not  having  found  her.  Hastily  he  stepped  through  the  rows  of 
dancers  which  separated  the  two  cavaliers  from  him. 

" It  api^ears, "  murmured  Baron  Kalkreuth  to  his  friend,  "it  ap- 
pears to  me  that  the  prince  would  like  to  get  rid  of  us.  He  wishes 
to  be  entirely  unobserved.  I  think  we  can  profit  by  this,  and  there- 
fore I  shall  take  leave  of  you  for  a  while,  and  seek  my  own  adven- 
tures. ■' 

"I  advise  you,"  murmured  Baron  Kaphengst,  laughingly,  "to 
appoint  no  rendezvous  for  to-morrow." 

"  And  why  not,  friend  ?" 

"  Because  you  will  not  be  able  to  appear ;  for  you  will  doubtless 
be  in  arrest. " 

"  That  is  true,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  prudent  advice,  and  shall 
arrange  all  my  rendezvous  for  the  day  after  to-morrow.     Farewell. " 

Baron  Kaphengst  turned  laughingly  to  another  part  of  the  saloon. 
Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand  placed  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  low  voice 
murmured  his  name. 

Terrified,  he  turned.  "  I  am  not  the  one  you  seek,  mask, "  ha 
said ;  but  as  he  met  those  two  large,  burning  eyes,  he  shuddered, 
and  even  his  bold,  daring  heart  stood  still  a  moment  from  terror. 
Only  the  king  had  such  eyes;  only  he  had  such  a  commanding 
glance. 

"  You  say  you  are  not  the  one  I  seek, "  said  the  mask.  "  Well, 
yes,  you  speak  wisely.  I  sought  in  you  a  brave  and  obedient  officer, 
and  it  appears  that  you  are  not  that.  You  are  not,  then,  Lieutenant 
von  Kaphengst?" 

Kaphengst  thought  a  moment.  He  was  convinced  it  was  the 
king  that  spoke  with  him,  for  Frederick  had  not  attempted  to  dia- 


so         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

guise  his  voice.  Kaphengst  knew  he  was  discovered.  There  re- 
mained nothing  for  him  but  to  try  and  reconcile  the  king  by  a 
jest. 

He  bowed  close  to  the  king,  and  whispered :  "  Listen,  mask — as 
you  have  recognized  me,  I  will  acknowledge  the  truth.  Yes,  I  am 
Lieutenant  von  Kaphengst,  and  am  incognito.  You  understand  me 
—I  came  to  this  ball  incognito.  He  is  a  scoundrel  who  repeats  it !" 
and,  without  awaiting  an  answer,  he  hastened  away  to  seek  the 
prince  and  Baron  Kalkreuth,  acquaint  them  with  the  king's  pres- 
ence, and  fly  with  them  from  his  anger. 

But  Prince  Henry,  whose  fruitless  search  for  his  sweetheart  had 
made  him  angry  and  defiant,  declared  he  would  remain  at  the  ball 
until  it  was  over,  and  that  it  should  be  optional  with  the  king  to 
insult  his  brother  openly,  and  to  punish  and  humble  a  prince  of  his 
house  before  the  world. 

"I,  unfortunately,  do  not  belong  to  the  princes  of  the  royal  house, 
and  I  therefore  fear  that  the  king  might  regard  me  as  the  cat  who 
liad  to  pull  the  hot  chestnuts  from  the  ashes,  and  I  might  suffer  for 
all  three.     I  therefore  pray  your  highness  to  allow  me  to  withdraw. " 

"  You  may  go,  and  if  you  meet  Kalkreuth,  ask  him  to  accompany 
you.  You  officers  must  not  carry  your  insubordination  any  further. 
I,  as  prince,  and  HohenzoUem,  dare  the  worst,  but,  be  assured,  I 
shall  pay  for  my  presumption.  Farewell,  and  hasten  1  Do  not  for- 
get Kalkreuth. " 

Kaphengst  sought  in  vain.  Kalkreuth  was  nowhere  to  be  found, 
and  he  had  to  wend  his  way  alone  to  Potsdam. 

"  I  shall  take  caro  not  to  await  the  order  of  the  king  for  my 
arrest, "  said  Baron  Kaphengst  to  himself,  as  he  rode  down  the  road 
to  Potsdam.  "  I  shall  be  in  arrest  when  his  order  arrives.  Perhaps 
that  will  soften  his  anger." 

Accordingly,  when  Kaphengst  arrived  at  the  court  guard,  in 
Potsdam,  he  assumed  the  character  of  a  drunken,  quarrelsome  offi- 
cer, and  played  his  rdle  so  well  that  the  commander  placed  him  in 
arrest. 

An  hour  later  the  king's  order  reached  the  commander  to  arrest 
Baron  Kaphengst,  and  with  smiling  astonishment  he  received  the 
answer  that  he  had  been  under  arrest  for  the  last  hour. 

In  the  mean  time,  Kaphengst  had  not  miscalculated.  The  prince 
was  put  under  arrest  for  eight  days,  Kalkreuth  for  three.  He  waa 
released  the  next  morning,  early  enough  to  appear  at  the  parade. 

As  the  king,  with  his  generals,  rode  dovsTi  to  the  front,  he  imme- 
diately noticed  the  audacious  young  officer,  whose  eye  met  hia 
askance  and  pleadingly.  Tlie  king  beckoned  to  him,  and  as  Baron 
Kaphengst  stood  erect  before  him,  the  king  said,  laughingly .- 


THE  LEGACY  OF  VON  TRENCK.         21 

"  It  is  truly  difficult  to  exchange  secrets  with  one  of  your  height ; 
bow  down  to  me,  I  have  something  to  whisper  in  you  ear. " 

The  comrades  and  officers,  yes,  even  the  generals,  saw  not  with- 
out envy  that  the  king  was  so  gracious  to  the  young  Lieutenant  von 
Kaphengst ;  whispered  a  few  words  to  him  oonfideni  ially,  and  then 
eniling  and  bowing  graciously,  moved  on. 

It  was,  therefore,  natural  that,  when  the  king  left,  all  were  anx- 
ious to  congratulate  the  young  lieutenant,  and  ask  him  what  the 
king  had  whispered.  But  Baron  Kaphengst  avoided,  with  dignified 
gravity,  all  inquiries,  and  only  whispered  to  his  commander  softly, 
but  loud  enough  for  every  one  to  hear,  the  words,  "  State  secrets ;" 
then  bowing  profoundly,  returned  with  an  earnest  and  grave  face  to 
his  dwelling,  there  to  meditate  at  his  leisure  upon  the  king's  words 
— words  both  gracious  and  cruel,  announcing  his  advancement,  but 
at  the  same  time  condemning  him  to  secrecy. 

The  king's  words  were :  "  You  are  a  captain,  but  he  is  a  scoundrel 
who  repeats  it !" 

Thus  Baron  Kaphengst  was  captain,  but  no  one  suspected  it ;  the 
captain  remained  a  simple  lieutenant  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  LEGACfY  OP  VON  TRENCK,  COLONEL  OF  THE  PANDOURS. 

Baron  Weinqarten,  the  new  secretary  of  legation  of  the  Aus- 
trian embassy  in  Berlin,  paced  the  ambassador's  office  in  great  dis- 
pleasure. It  was  the  hour  in  which  all  who  had  affairs  to  arrange 
with  the  Austrian  ambassador,  passports  to  vise,  contracts  to  sign, 
were  allowed  entrance,  and  it  was  the  baron's  duty  to  receive  them. 
But  no  one  came  ;  no  one  desired  to  make  use  of  his  ability  or  his 
mediation,  and  this  displeased  the  baron  and  put  him  out  of  humor. 
It  was  not  the  want  of  work  and  activity  that  annoyed  him ;  the 
baron  would  have  welcomed  the  dolcefar  niente  had  it  not  been  un- 
fortunately connected  with  his  earnings ;  the  fees  he  received  for 
passports,  and  the  arrangement  of  other  affairs,  formed  part  of  his 
salary  as  secretary  of  legation,  and  as  he  possessed  no  fortune,  this 
was  his  only  resource.  This  indigence  alone  led  him  to  resign  his 
aristocratic  independence  and  freedom  of  action.  He  had  not 
entered  the  state  service  from  ambition,  but  for  money,  that  he 
might  have  the  means  of  supporting  his  mother  and  unmarried  sis- 
ters, and  enable  himself  to  live  according  to  his  rank  and  old  aristo- 
cratic name.  Baron  Weingarten  would  have  made  any  sacrifice, 
submitted  to  any  service,  to  obtain  wealth.     Poverty  had  demoral- 


22  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ized  him,  pride  had  laid  a  mildew  on  his  heart  and  stifled  all  noble 
aspirations.  As  he  read  a  letter,  just  received  from  his  mother, 
complaining  of  wants  and  privations,  telling  of  the  attachment  of  a 
young  officer  to  his  sister,  and  that  poverty  alone  prevented  their 
marriage,  his  heart  was  filled  with  repining,  and  at  this  moment 
he  was  prepared  to  commit  a  crime,  if,  by  so  doing,  he  could  have 
obtained  wealth. 

In  this  despairing  and  sorrowful  mood  he  had  entered  the  office, 
and  awaited  in  vain  for  petitioners  who  would  pay  him  richly  for 
his  services.  But  the  hours  passed  in  undisturbed  quiet,  and  Baron 
Weingarten  was  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  office,  as  the  servant 
announced  Baron  von  Waltz,  and  the  court  councillor,  Zetto,  from 
Vienna. 

He  advanced  to  meet  the  tw^o  gentlemen,  with  a  smiling  counte- 
nance, and  welcomed  his  Austrian  countrymen  heartily. 

The  two  gentlemen  seated  themselves  silently  ;  Weingarten  took 
a  seat  in  front  of  them. 

A  painful,  embaiTassed  pause  ensued.  The  majestic  Baron  von 
Waltz  looked  silently  at  the  ceiling,  while  the  black,  piercing  eyes 
of  the  little  Councillor  Zetto  examined  the  countenance  of  Wein- 
garten with  a  strangely  searching  and  penetrating  expression. 

"You  are  from  Vienna?"  said  Weingarten  at  last,  puting  an  end 
to  this  painful  silence. 

"We  are  from  Vienna, "  answered  the  baron,  with  a  grave  bow. 

"  And  have  travelled  here  post-haste  to  have  an  interview  with 
you. " 

"With  me?"  asked  the  secretary  of  legation,  astonished. 

"With  you  alone,"  said  the  baron,  gravely. 

"We  wish  you  to  do  the  King  of  Prussia  a  great  service,"  said 
Zetto,  solemnly. 

Weingarten  reddened,  and  said  confusedly  :  "  The  King  of  Prus- 
sia !  You  forget,  gentlemen,  that  my  services  belong  alone  to  the 
Empress  Maria  Theresa. " 

"He  defends  himself  before  he  is  accused,"  said  Zetto,  aside. 
"It  is  then  true,  as  we  have  been  told,  he  is  playing  a  double  game 
— serves  Austria  and  Prussia  at  the  same  time. "  Turning  to  Baron 
Weingarten,  he  said :  "  That  which  we  ask  of  you  will  be  at  the 
same  time  a  service  to  our  gi'acious  empress,  for  certainly  it  would 
not  only  distress,  but  compromise  her  majesty,  if  an  Austrian  officer 
committed  a  murder  in  Prussia." 

"  Murder !"  cried  the  secretary  of  legation. 

"  Yes,  an  intentional  murder, "  said  Baron  Waltz,  emphatically 
— "the  murder  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  If  you  prevent  this  crime, 
you  will  receive  ten    thousand  guilders,"  said  Zetto,   examining 


THE  LEGACY  OP  VON  TRENCK.         23 

Weingarten's  countenance  closely.  He  remarked  that  the  baron, 
who  was  but  a  moment  ago  pale  from  terror,  now  reddened,  and 
that  his  eyes  sparkled  joyously. 

"And  what  can  I  do  to  prevent  this  murder?"  asked  Weingarten, 
hastily. 

"  You  can  warn  the  king. " 

"  But  to  warn  successfully,  I  must  have  proofs. " 

""We  are  ready  to  give  the  most  incontrovertible  proofs." 

"I  must,  before  acting,  be  convinced  of  the  veracity  of  your 
charges. " 

"  I  hope  that  my  word  of  honor  will  convince  you  of  their  truth, " 
said  Baron  Waltz,  pathetically. 

Weingarten  bowed,  with  an  ambiguous  smile,  that  did  not  escape 
Zetto.  He  drew  forth  his  pocket-book,  and  took  from  it  a  small, 
folded  paper,  which  he  handed  to  Weingarten. 

"If  I  strengthen  my  declaration  with  this  paper,  will  you  trust 
me?" 

Weingarten  looked  with  joyful  astonishment  at  the  paper ;  it 
was  a  check  for  two  thousand  guilders.  "My  sister's  dowry," 
thought  Weingarten,  with  joy.  But  the  next  moment  came  doubt 
and  suspicion.  What  if  they  were  only  trying  him — only  convinc- 
ing themselves  if  he  could  be  bought?  Perhaps  he  was  suspected  of 
supplying  the  Prussian  Government  from  time  to  time  with  Austrian 
news — of  commimicating  to  them  the  contents  of  important  dis- 
patches ! 

The  fire  faded  from  his  eye,  and  with  a  firm  countenance  he  laid 
the  paper  upon  the  table. 

"Your  are  mistaken, -gentlemen !  that  is  no  document,  but  a 
check. " 

"With  which  many  documents  could  be  purchased,"  said  Zetto, 
smiling.  Placing  the  paper  again  in  his  pocket-book,  he  took  out 
another  and  a  larger  one.  It  was  a  check  for  three  thousand 
guilders. 

But  Weingarten  had  regained  his  composure.  He  knew  that 
men  acting  thus  must  be  spies  or  criminals ;  that  they  were  testing 
him,  or  luring  him  on  to  some  unworthy  act.  In  either  case,  he 
must  be  on  his  guard. 

"  I  beg  you  to  confirm  your  charge  in  the  usual  manner, "  said  he, 
with  a  cold,  indifferent  glance  at  the  paper.  "  Murder  is  a  dreadful 
accusation — you  cannot  act  too  carefully.  You  say  that  an  Austrian 
officer  intends  to  murder  the  King  of  Prussia.  How  do  you  know 
this?" 

"  From  himself, "  said  Baron  Waltz  ;  "  he  commimicated  his  in- 
tentions to  me,  and  confided  to  me  his  entire  plan." 


24         PREDEHICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  It  appears, "  remarked  Weingarten,  mockingly,  "  that  the  officer 
had  reason  to  believe  he  might  trust  you  with  this  terrible  secret. " 

"  You  see,  however,  that  he  was  mistaken, "  said  the  baron,  smil- 
ingly. "  I  demand  of  you  to  warn  the  King  of  Prussia  of  the  danger 
that  threatens  him. " 

"  I  shall  be  compelled  to  make  this  danger  clear,  give  all  particu- 
lars, or  the  king  will  laugh  at  my  story  and  consider  it  a  fairy 
tale." 

"You  shall  give  him  convincing  proof.  Say  to  him  that  the 
murder  is  to  be  committed  when  his  majesty  attends  the  Austrian 
review  at  Konigsberg." 

•'How  will  the  officer  cross  the  Prussian  border?" 

"He  is  supplied  with  an  Austrian  passport,  and  under  the  pre- 
tence of  inheriting  a  large  property  in  I*russia,  he  has  obtained  leave 
of  absence  for  a  month. " 

"  There  remains  now  but  one  question :  why  does  the  officer  wish 
to  murder  the  king?  what  motive  leads  him  to  do  so?" 

"Revenge,"  said  Baron  von  Waltz,  solemnly — "an  act  of  ven- 
geance. This  Austrian  officer  who  is  resolved  to  murder  the  king 
of  Prussia,  is  Frederick  von  Trenck. " 

Weingarten  was  embarrassed,  and  his  countenance  bore  an  un- 
easy and  troubled  expression.  But  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  weighty 
paper  that  lay  before  him,  he  smiled,  and  looked  resolved. 

"  Now  I  have  but  one  thing  more  to  ask.  Why,  if  your  story  is 
authentic,  and  well  calculated  to  startle  even  the  brave  king,  have 
you  thought  it  necessary  to  remove  my  doubts  with  this  document?" 

Baron  Waltz  was  silent,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  Zetto. 

"Why  did  I  hand  you  this  document?"  said  the  councillor,  with 
a  sweet  smile ;  "because  gold  remains  gold,  whether  received  from 
an  Austrian  councillor  or  from  a  Prussian  prince. " 

"Sir,  do  you  dare  to  insult  me?"  criec"  the  secretary  of  legation, 
fiercely. 

Zetto  smiled.  "No,  I  only  wish  to  notify  you  that  we  are  aware 
that  it  is  through  you  that  Baron  von  Trenck  receives  money  from 
a  certain  aristocratic  lady  in  Berlin.  It  is,  therefore,  most  impor- 
tant that  the  king  should  be  warned  by  you  of  his  intended  murder 
— otherwise  you  might  be  thought  an  accomplice." 

Weingarten  appealed  not  to  be  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  thi» 
statement — he  seemed  not  even  to  have  heard  it. 

"Before  I  warn  the  king,"  he  said,  with  calm  composure,  "I 
must  be  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  story  myself,  and  I  acknowl- 
edge to  you  that  I  am  not  convinced,  cannot  understand  your  motives 
for  seeking  the  destruction  of  Baron  von  Trenck." 

"  Ah  !  you  search  into  our  motives— you  mistrust  us, "  cried  Zetto, 


THE  LEGACY  OE  VON  TRENCK.        ^5 

hastily.     "  Well,  we  will  prove  to  you  that  we  trust  you,  by  telling 
you  our  secret.    You  know  the  story  of  the  inheritance  of  Trenck?" 

"He  is  the  only  heir  of  the  pandour  chieftain,  Franz  von 
Trenck. " 

"  Correct.  And  do  you  know  the  history  of  this  pandour  chief- 
tain Trenck?" 

"  I  have  heard  a  confused  and  uncertain  statement,  but  nothing 
definite  or  reliable. " 

"It  is,  however,  a  very  interesting  and  instructive  story,  and 
shows  how  far  a  man  with  a  determined  will  and  great  energy  can 
reach,  when  his  thoughts  are  directed  to  one  end.  Baron  Trenck 
wished  to  be  rich,  immensely  rich — that  was  the  aim  of  his  life. 
Seduced  by  his  love  of  money,  he  became  the  captain  of  a  band  of 
robbers,  then  a  murderer,  a  church-robber ;  from  that  a  brave  sol- 
dier, and,  at  last,  a  holy  penitent.  Robbing  and  plundering  eveiy- 
where,  he  succeeded  in  collecting  millions.  The  pandour  chieftain 
Trenck  soon  became  so  rich,  that  he  excited  the  envy  of  the  noblest 
and  wealthiest  men  in  the  kingdom,  so  rich  that  he  was  able  to  lend 
large  sums  of  money  tx)  the  powerful  and  influential  Baron  Lowen- 
walde.  You  see,  baron,  it  only  needs  a  determined  will  to  become 
rich." 

"Oh!  the  foolish  man,"  said  Weingarten,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
dei"s ;  "  lending  money  to  a  noble  and  powerful  man,  is  making  an 
irreconcilable  enemy." 

"  You  speak  like  a  prophet.  It  happened,  as  you  say.  Lowen- 
walde  became  Trenck's  enemy.  He  accused  him  of  embezzling  the 
imperial  money,  of  treachery  and  faithlessness — and  Trenck  whs 
imprisoned. " 

"His  millions  obtained  his  release,  did  they  not?" 

"No.  His  riches  reduced  him  to  greater  misery.  His  lands 
were  sequestered,  and  a  body  of  commissioners  were  selected  to  at- 
tend to  them.  Baron  Waltz  and  myself  belonged  to  this  commis- 
sion. " 

"  Ah  !  I  begin  to  understand, "  murmured  Weingarten. 

Baron  Zetto  continued,  with  a  smile  :  "  The  commissioners  made 
the  discoveiy  that  report  had  greatly  exaggerated  the  riches  of 
Trenck.  He  had  not  many  treasures,  but  many  debts.  In  order  to 
liquidate  those  debts,  we  desired  his  creditors  to  announce  them- 
selves every  day,  and  promised  them  a  daily  ducat  until  the  end  of 
the  process. " 

"I  hope  you  two  gentlemen  were  among  his  creditors,"  said 
Weingarten. 

"  Certainly,  we  were,  and  also  Baron  Marken. " 

"Therefore  you  have  a  threefold  advantage  from  Trenck's  im 
8 


26         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

prisonment .  first,  your  salary  as  a  member  of  the  commission } 
secondly,  as  a  creditor " 

"And  thirdly — you  spoke  of  a  threefold  advantage?" 

"And  thirdly,"  said  Weingarten,  laughing,  "in  searching  for 
the  missing  treasures  of  Baron  Trenck  which  had  disappeared  so 
unfortunately. " 

"Ah,  sir,  you  speak  like  those  who  suspected  us  at  court,  and 
wished  to  make  the  empress  believe  that  we  had  enriched  ourselves 
as  commissioners.  Soon  after  this  Trenck  died,  and  Frederick  von 
Trenck  hastened  from  St.  Petersburg  to  receive  his  inheritance. 
How  great  was  his  astonishment  to  find  instead  of  the  hoped-for 
millions  a  few  mortgaged  lauds,  an  income  of  a  hundred  thousand 
guilders,  and  sixty-three  creditors  who  claimed  the  property." 

"  He  should  have  become  one  of  the  commissioners, "  remarked 
Weingarten,  mockingly.  "Perhaps  it  would  have  then  been  easier 
for  him  to  obtain  his  possessions." 

"  He  attempted  it  in  another  way,  with  the  aid  of  money,  bribery, 
and  persuasion.  He  has  already  succeeded  in  obtaining  fifty-four 
of  his  sixty-three  processes,  and  will  win  the  others  in  a  few  days. " 

"And  then  he  will  doubtless  cause  the  commissioners  to  give  in 
their  accounts,  and  close  their  books. " 

"  Exactly.  He  has  already  commenced  to  do  so.  He  ordered  an 
investigation  to  be  made  against  the  quartermaster,  and  the  com- 
mander of  the  regiment  to  which  Franz  von  Trenck  belonged.  This 
man  had  accused  Trenck  of  having  embezzled  eight  thousand  of  the 
imperial  money,  and  Trenck  succeeded  so  far,  that  it  was  declared 
that  it  was  not  he,  but  his  accusers,  who  had  committed  the  crime. 
The  consequence  was,  that  the  quartermaster  was  deposed ;  and  it 
would  have  fared  as  badly  with  the  commander,  had  he  not  found 
powerful  protection. " 

"And  now  the  dangerous  Frederick  von  Trenck  will  seize  the 
property  of  the  commissioners. " 

"  He  would  do  so  if  we  did  not  know  how  to  prevent  him.  We 
must  employ  every  means  to  remove  him,  and,  believe  me,  we  are 
not  the  only  men  who  wish  for  his  disappearance.  A  large  and 
powerful  party  have  the  same  desire,  and  would  joyfully  pay  ten 
thousand  guilders  to  be  freed  from  his  investigations. " 

Weingarten's  eyes  sparkled  for  a  moment,  and  his  heart  beat 
quickly  ;  but  he  suppressed  these  joyful  emotions,  and  retained  his 
oalm  and  indifferent  expression. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  quietly,  "as  you  are  speaking  of  a  real 
criminal,  one  who  intends  committing  so  great  a  crime,  I  am  at 
your  service,  and  no  money  or  promises  are  necessary  to  buy  my 
assistance. " 


THE  LEGACY  OF  VON  TRENCK       27 

"Is  he  really  a  man  of  honor,  and  have  we  received  false  infor- 
mation?" thought  Zetto,  who  was  misled  for  a  moment  by  the  quiet 
and  virtuous  looks  of  the  secretary  of  legation. 

"In  the  mean  while  you  will  not  prevent  those  for  whom  you  aro 
about  to  do  a  great  service  from  showing  their  gratitude,"  said 
Baron  Waltz.  "Eveiy  one  has  a  right  to  give  or  to  receive  a 
present. " 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Baron  Weingarten,  smilingly,  "nd  one  has 
spoken  of  a  present,  but  of  a  payment,  a  bribery,  and  you  can  readily 
understand  that  this  is  insulting  to  a  man  of  honor. " 

"  Ah,  he  leaves  open  a  door  of  escape, "  thought  Zetto.  "  He  is 
won,  he  can  be  bought. — You  are  right,  baron,"  he  said  aloud, 
"  and  we  are  wrong  to  offer  you  now  that  which  hereafter  will  be  a 
debt  of  gratitude.  We  will  speak  no  more  of  this,  but  of  the  danger  * 
that  threatens  the  king.  You  alone  can  save  him  by  warning  him 
of  his  danger. " 

"  You  really  believe,  then,  that  Trenck  has  the  intention  of  mur- 
dering the  king?"  said  Weingarten. 

"  We  unll  believe  it, "  said  Zetto,  with  an  ambiguous  smile. 

"We  must  believe  it!"  cried  Baron  Waltz,  emphatically.  "We 
must  either  believe  in  his  murderous  intentions,  or  be  ourselves  re- 
garded as  traitors  and  robbers.  You  will  think  it  natural  that  we 
prefer  the  first  alternative,  and  as  he  resolved  to  ruin  us,  we  will 
anticipate  him,  and  set  the  trap  into  which  he  must  fall. " 

"Why  could  you  not  lay  your  snares  in  Austria,  gentlemen? 
Why  could  you  not  accuse  him  of  intending  to  murder  the  empress?" 

Zetto  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That  would  not  be  credible,  be- 
cause Trenck  has  no  motive  for  murdering  Maria  Theresa,  while  he 
might  very  well  thirst  to  revenge  himself  upon  Frederick.  You 
know  that  the  king  and  Trenck  are  personal  enemies.  Trenck  has 
boasted  of  this  enmity  often  and  loud  enough  to  be  understood  by 
the  whole  world,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  this  animosity  has  dimin- 
ished.  Enemies  naturally  desire  to  destroy  each  other.  Trenck 
would  succeed  if  we  did  not  warn  the  king,  and  enable  him  to  an- 
ticipate his  enemy. " 

"  How  can  this  be  done  ?  Will  the  king  really  go  to  Konigsberg 
to  be  present  at  the  Austrian  festivities?" 

"  It  has  been  spoken  of. " 

"  Well,  Trenck  now  proposes  to  go  to  Dantzic,  and  he  haa  boasted 
that  he  will  enter  Konigsberg  at  the  same  time  with  the  King  of  _ 
Prussia,  who  will  not  dare  to  arrest  him. " 

"We  have  made  a  bet  with  him  of  a  hundred  louis  d'or  on  this 
boast, "  said  Baron  Waltz,  "  and  for  greeit'er  security  we  have  put  it 
is  writing. " 


28  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Have  you  it  with  you?" 

"Here  it  is." 

The  baron  handed  Weingarten  a  paper,  which  he  seized  hastily, 
unfolded,  and  read  saffreral  times. 

"  This  is  indeed  written  in  very  ambiguous  language,  and  calcu- 
lated to  ruin  Trenck  should  it  reach  the  hands  of  the  king,"  said 
Baron  Weingarten  with  a  cruel  smile. 

Zetto  returned  this  smile.  "I  wrote  the  document,  and  you  will 
naturally  understand  that  I  measured  the  words  very  closely. " 

"  Who  copied  the  letter  ?"  asked  Weingarten.  "  Doubtlessly  Baron 
Trenck  was  not  magnanimous  enough  to  do  that." 

"  Baron  Waltz  is  a  great  adept  in  imitating  handwriting,  and  he 
happily  possessed  original  letters  of  Trenck 's, "  said  Zetto,  smilingly. 

"  You  will  find  it  most  natural  that  I  should  try  to  win  my  bet, " 
said  Baron  Waltz.  "  If  Trenck  is  arrested  before  he  goes  to  Konigs- 
berg,  I  have  won  my  bet,  and  will  receive  the  hundred  louis  d'ors 
from  the  commissioners." 

All  three  laughed. 

"These  commissioners  will  soon  have  to  pay  you  ten  thousand 
guilders,"  whispered  Zetto.  "Here  is  a  bond.  On  the  day  that 
Trenck  is  a  prisoner  of  the  king  of  Prussia,  this  bond  is  due,  and 
you  will  then  find  that  the  commissioners  are  not  backward  in  pay- 
ing. "  2Jetto  laid  the  document  upon  the  table.  "  You  will  now 
have  the  kindness  to  receive  our  testimony,  and,  if  you  desire  it, 
we  will  add  our  accusations,  or  you  can  mention  that  this  can  be 
done. " 

Weingarten  did  not  answer ;  a  repentant  fear  tormented  his 
heart,  and  for  a  moment  it  appeared  as  if  his  good  and  evil  genius 
were  struggling  for  his  soul. 

"  This  involves  probably  the  life  of  a  man,"  he  said,  softly;  "it 
is  a  terrible  accusation  that  I  must  pronounce  :  if  not  condemned  to 
death,  the  king  will  imprison  him  for  many  long  years,  and  I  shall 
be  responsible  for  this  injustice." 

Councillor  Zetto's  attentive  ear  heard  every  word  ;  he  stood  near 
him  like  the  evil  one,  and  his  piercing  eyes  rested  upon  the  agitated 
countenance  of  Weingarten  and  read  his  thoughts. 

"  Have  you  not  lived  the  life  of  a  prisoner  for  many  yeai*s?"  asked 
Zetto,  in  a  low,  unnatural  voice  ;  "  have  you  not  always  been  a  slave 
of  poverty?  Will  you  now,  from  weak  pity,  lose  the  opportimity  of 
freeing  yourself  from  this  bondage?  Ten  thousand  guilders  is  no 
fortune,  but  it  may  be  the  beginning  of  one — it  may  be  the  thread 
of  Ariadne  to  lead  you  from  the  labyrinth  of  poverty  to  freedom  and 
light ;  and  who  will  thank  you  if  you  do  not  seize  this  thread — who 
recompense  you  for  jour  generosity  and  magnanimity?    If  jou  telj 


THE  KING  AND  WElNGARTEN.  29 

it  to  the  wise  and  cunning,  they  will  laugh  at  you  ;  and  if  the  fool- 
ish hear  it,  they  will  not  understand  you.  Every  one  is  the  moulder 
of  his  own  happiness ;  and  woe  unto  him  who  neglects  to  forge  the 
iron  while  it  is  hot !" 

Baron  Weingarten  felt  each  of  these  words.  He  did  not  know  if 
they  were  uttered  by  human  lips,  or  if  they  came  from  the  depths 
of  his  own  base  soul. 

"It  is  true,  it  is  true  !"  he  cried,  in  a  frightened  voice  ;  "he  is  a 
fool  who  does  not  seize  the  hand  of  Fortune  when  tendered  by  the 
laughing  goddess — a  fool  who  does  not  break  his  fetters  when  he  has 
the  power  to  rend  them.  Come,  gentlemen  !  we  take  the  testimony, 
and  when  that  is  done,  I  will  conduct  you  to  our  ambassador.  Baron 
Puebla." 

"  Not  so — when  that  is  done,  we  shall  depart  with  post-haste ; 
you  alone  shall  receive  thanks  and  recompense.     Now  to  work  I" 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  KINO   AND    WEINGARTEN. 

The  king  paced  his  room  hastily  ;  he  was  very  pale,  his  lip  trem- 
bled, and  his  eyes  sparkled  angrily. 

He  suddenly  remained  standing  before  the  Austrian  secretary  of 
legation,  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  into  his  face  ;  but  his  glance, 
before  which  so  many  had  trembled,  was  sustained  by  the  secretary 
with  so  quiet  and  innocent  a  countenance  that  it  deceived  even  the 
king. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what  you  tell  me. " 
the  king  said  at  last ;  "  you  really  believe  that  this  madman  has  tlie 
intention  of  murdering  me?" 

"  I  am  convinced  of  it,  sire, "  replied  "Weingarten,  humbly,  "  for 
I  have  the  proof  of  his  intention  in  my  hand. " 

"The  proof— what  proof?" 

"  This  paper  which  I  allowed  myself  to  hand  to  your  majesty,  and 
which  you  laid  upon  the  table  without  reading." 

"  Ah,  it  is  true  !  I  forgot  that  in  my  excitement, "  said  the  king, 
mildly.     "  I  beg  you  to  read  me  the  contents  of  this  paper. " 

Baron  Weingarten  received  the  paper  from  the  king  with  a  re- 
spectful bow  ;  his  voice  did  not  tremble  in  the  least  as  he  read  the 
important  words  which  refined  malice  and  cruel  avarice  had  writ- 
ten there — words  which,  if  literally  interpreted,  would  fully  con- 
demn Trenck. 

The  words  were : 


30         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"'In  consequence  of  a  bet,  I  pledge  myself  to  be  in  Konigsberg 
the  same  day  in  which  the  King  Frederick  of  Prussia,  my  cruel 
enemy  and  persecutor,  shall  arrive  there.  I  shall  go  there  to  do,  in 
the  king's  presence,  that  which  no  one  has  done  before  me,  and 
which  no  one  will  do  after  me.  If  I  do  not  succeed  in  accomplish- 
ing my  purpose,  or  if  I  should  be  arrested,  I  have  lost  my  bet,  and 
shall  owe  Baron  Waltz  one  hundred  louis  d'or,  which  must  be  paid 
him  by  the  commissionei-s  of  the  Trenck  estate. 

"'Baron  Frederick  vok  Trenck.'" 

"And  Trenck  wrote  this  note  himself?"  said  the  king. 

"If  your  majesty  is  acquainted  with  Trenck's  handwriting,  you 
wiU  perhaps  have  the  goodness  to  examine  it  yourself. " 

"  I  know  his  handwriting  ;  give  me  the  paper. " 

He  took  the  paper  and  glanced  over  it  searchingly.  "  It  is  his 
handwriting, "  he  murmured  ;  "  but  I  will  examine  it  again. " 

Speaking  thus,  he  stepped  hastily  to  his  escritoire,  and  took  from 
a  small  box  several  closely  written  yellow  papers,  and  compared 
them  with  the  document  which  Weingarten  had  given  him. 

Ah,  how  little  did  Trenck  dream,  as  he  wrote  those  letters,  that 
they  would  witness  against  him,  and  stamp  him  as  a  criminal ! 
They  were  already  a  crime  in  the  king's  eyes,  for  they  were  tender 
letters  that  Trenck  had  dared  to  write  from  Vienna  to  the  Princess 
Amelia.     They  had  never  reached  her  ! 

And  not  those  tender  epistles  of  a  tearful  and  unhappy  love  must 
bear  witness  against  the  writer,  and  condemn  him  for  the  second 
time ! 

"It  is  his  handwriting,"  said  the  king,  as  he  laid  the  letters 
again  in  the  box.  "  I  thank  you.  Baron  "Weingarten ;  you  have 
saved  me  from  a  disagreeable  occurrence  ;  for,  if  I  will  not  ^ven  be- 
lieve that  Trenck  intended  murder,  he  was  at  all  events  willing  to 
create  a  scene,  if  only  to  gratify  his  vanity.  It  appears  that  he  has 
now  played  out  his  rdle  at  Vienna,  as  well  as  in  St.  Petersburg  and 
Berlin ;  and  the  world  would  forget  him  if  he  did  not  attract  its 
attention  by  some  mad  piece  of  folly.  How  he  intended  to  accom- 
plish this  I  do  not  know  ;  but  certainly  not  by  a  murder — no,  I  can- 
not believe  that !" 

"Your  majesty  is  always  noble  and  magnanimous,  but  it  appears 
to  me  that  these  words  can  have  but  one  meaning.  '  I  shall  go  to 
Konigsberg, '  writes  Baron  Trenck,  '  and  there  do  in  the  presence  of 
the  king  what  no  one  has  done  before  me,  and  what  no  one  will  do 
after  me. '    Does  not  this  make  his  intention  pretty  clear?" 

"  Only  for  those  who  know  his  intentions  or  suspect  them,  for 
others  they  could  have  any  other  signification ;  some  romantic 
threat,  nothing  more.    Baron  Trenck  is  a  known  adventurer,  a  species 


THE  KING  AND  WEINGARTEN.  31 

of  Don  Quixote,  always  fighting  against  windmills,  and  believing 
that  warriors  and  kings  honor  him  so  far  as  to  be  his  enemies. 
I  punished  Trenck  when  he  was  in  my  service,  for  insubordination ; 
now  he  is  no  longer  in  my  service,  and  I  have  forgotten  him, 
but  woe  be  unto  him  if  he  forces  me  to  remember  him  !" 

"Your  majesty  will  soon  see  if  he  is  falsely  accused.  These 
reliable  and  irreproachable  men  came  especially  to  warn  your  ma- 
jesty, through  me.  You  will  discover  if  they  have  calumniated 
Trenck,  by  giving  this  testimony.  If  he  does  not  go  to  Dantzic, 
does  not  enter  Prussia,  they  have  sworn  falsely,  and  Trenck  is  inno- 
cent." 

"  He  will  not  dare  to  cross  the  borders  of  my  state,  for  he  knows 
he  will  be  court-martialled  as  a  deserter.  But  I  am  convinced  that 
he  is  a  bold  adventurer  ;  he  has  boasted  that  he  will  defy  me  ;  that 
is  certainly  what  no  one  has  done  before  him,  and  what  no  one  will 
do  after  him  ;  but  it  will  rest  there,  you  may  believe  me. " 

Baron  Weingarten  bowed  silently.  The  king  continued,  with 
an  engaging  smile : 

"However,  monsieur,  I  owe  you  many  thanks,  and  it  would 
please  me  to  have  an  opportunity  of  rewarding  you. " 

Until  this  moment,  Weingarten  had  been  standing  with  bowed 
head ;  he  now  stood  erect,  and  his  eye  dared  to  meet  that  of  the  king. 

"  Sire, "  he  said,  with  the  noble  expression  of  offended  innocence, 
"  I  demand  and  wish  no  other  reward  than  that  you  may  profit  by 
my  warning.  If  the  fearful  danger  that  threatens  your  majesty  is 
averted  through  me,  that  will  be  my  all-sufficient  recompense.  I 
must  decline  any  other. " 

The  king  smiled  approvingly.  "You  speak  emphatically,  and  it 
appears  that  you  really  believe  in  this  danger.  Well,  I  thank  you 
only  as  that  is  your  desire.  I  will  respect  your  warning  and  guard 
myself  from  the  danger  that  you  believe  threatens  me ;  but  to  do 
that,  and  at  the  same  time  to  convince  ourselves  of  Trenck 's  evil  in- 
tentions, we  must  observe  the  most  perfect  silence  in  this  whole 
affair,  and  you  must  promise  me  to  speak  of  it  to  no  one. " 

"Sire,  secrecy  appeared  to  me  so  necessary,  that  I  did  not  even 
communicate  it  to  Baron  Puebla,  but  came  to  your  majesty  on  my 
own  responsibility. " 

"  You  did  well,  for  now  Trenck  will  fall  imwamed  into  the  trap 
we  set  for  him.  Be  silent,  therefore,  upon  the  subject.  If  you 
should  ever  have  a  favor  to  ask,  come  to  me  with  this  tabatiire  in 
your  hand.  I  will  remember  this  hour,  and  if  it  is  in  my  power 
will  grant  you  what  you  wish. " 

He  handed  Weingarten  his  gpld,  diamond-studded  tabati^, 
^n^  received  his  thanks  with  approving  smile?. 


32  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

After  he  had  dismissed  the  secretary  of  legation,  and  was  alone, 
the  smile  faded  from  his  face,  and  his  countenance  was  sad  and 
disturbed. 

"It  has  come  to  this,"  he  said,  as  he  paced  his  room,  with  his 
hands  folded  behind  his  back.  "This  man,  w^hom  I  once  loved  so 
warmly,  wishes  to  murder  me.  Ah  !  ye  proud  princes,  who  imagine 
youi-selves  gods  on  earth,  you  are  not  even  safe  from  a  murderer's 
dagger,  and  j'ou  are  as  vulnerable  as  the  commonest  beggar.  Why 
does  he  wish  my  death  ?  "Were  I  a  fantastic,  romantic  hero,  I  might 
say  he  hoped  to  claim  his  sweetheaxi;  over  my  dead  body !  But 
Amelia  is  no  longer  a  person  for  whom  a  man  would  risk  his  life  ; 
she  is  but  a  faint  and  sad  resemblance  of  the  past — her  rare  beauty 
is  tear-stained  and  turned  to  ashes,  but  her  heart  still  lives ;  it  is 
yoxmg  and  warm,  and  belongs  to  Trenck  !  And  shall  I  dissipate  this 
last  illusion  ?  Must  she  now  learn  that  he  to  whom  she  sacrificed  so 
much  is  but  a  common  murderer?  No,  I  will  spare  her  this  sorrow  ! 
I  will  not  give  Trenck  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  his  work  ;  even  his 
intention  shall  remain  doubtful.  I  shall  not  go  to  Konigsberg  ;  and 
if,  in  his  presumptuous  thirst  for  notoriety  or  for  vengeance,  he 
should  enter  Prussia,  he  shall  be  cared  for — he  shall  not  escape  his 
punishment.  Let  him  but  try  to  cross  my  borders — he  will  find  a 
snare  spread,  a  cage  from  which  he  cannot  escape.  Yes,  so  it  shall 
be.  But  neither  the  world  nor  Trenck  shall  suspect  why  this  is 
done.  If  my  brothers  and  envious  persons  hold  him  up  in  future  as 
an  example  of  my  hardness  of  heart,  what  do  I  care  for  their  ap- 
proval, or  the  praise  of  short-sighted  men  !  I  do  my  duty,  and  am 
answerable  only  to  God  and  myself.  Trenck  intends  to  murder  me 
—I  must  preserve  myself  for  my  people.  My  mission  is  not  yet 
accomplished ;  and  if  a  poisonous  insect  crosses  my  path,  I  must 
crush  it. " 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  UNWILLING  BRIDEGROOM. 

Prince  Henry  had  again  passed  eight  days  in  arrest — eight  tedi- 
ous days,  days  of  powerless  anger  and  painful  humiliation.  This 
arrest  had  been,  by  the  king's  express  orders,  so  strict,  that  no  one 
was  allowed  to  see  the  prince  but  Pollnitz,  who  belonged,  as  the  king 
said,  to  the  inventory  of  the  house  of  Hohenzollem,  and,  therefore, 
all  doors  were  open  to  him. 

Pollnitz  alone  had,  therefore,  the  pleasure  of  hearing  the  com- 
plaints, and  reproaches,  and  bitter  accusations  of  the  prince  against 
h\B  brptber.    PoIJpitz  alwajrs  had  an  attentive  e^r  for  these  Qom- 


THE  UNWILLING  BRIDEGROOM.  33 

plaints  ;  and  after  listening  to  the  prince  with  every  appearance  of 
real  feeling  and  warm  sympathy,  he  would  hasten  to  the  king,  and 
with  drooping  eyelids  and  rejoicing  heart  repeat  the  bitter  and 
hateful  words  of  the  unsuspicious  prince — words  that  were  well 
calculated  to  increase  the  king's  displeasure.  The  prince  still  de- 
clared that  he  would  not  marry,  and  the  king  insisted  that  he  must 
submit  to  his  will  and  commands. 

Thus  the  eight  days  had  passed,  and  Pollnitz  came  to-day  with 
the  joyful  news  that  his  arrest  was  at  an  end,  and  he  was  now  free. 

"That  means,"  said  the  prince,  bitterly,  "that  I  am  free  to  wan- 
der through  the  stupid  streets  of  Potsdam  ;  appear  at  his  table  ;  that 
my  clothes  may  be  soiled  by  his  unbearable  four-legged  friends,  and 
my  ears  deafened  by  the  dull,  pedantic  conversation  of  his  no  less 
unbearable  two-legged  friends." 

"Your  highness  can  save  yourself  from  all  these  small  annoy- 
ances, "  said  Pollnitz  ;  "  you  have  only  to  maiTy . " 

"Marry,  bah  !  That  means  to  give  my  poor  sister-in-law,  Eliza- 
beth Christine,  a  companion,  that  they  may  sing  their  sorrows  to 
each  other.  No,  I  have  not  the  bravery  of  my  kingly  brother,  to 
make  a  feeling,  human  being  unhappy  in  order  to  satisfy  state  poli- 
tics. No,  I  possess  not  the  egotism  to  purchase  my  freedom  with 
the  life-long  misery  of  another." 

■'But,  mon  Dieu!  my  prince, '^  said  Pollnitz,  in  his  cynical  way, 
"  you  look  at  it  in  too  virtuous  a  manner.  All  women  are  not  as 
good  and  pure  as  poor  Elizabeth  Christine,  and  know  how  to  com- 
pensate themselves  in  other  quarters  for  the  indifference  of  their 
husbands.  We  are  not  speaking  here  of  a  common  marriage,  but  of 
the  betrothal  of  a  prince.  You  do  not  marry  your  heart,  but  your 
hand.  Truly  such  a  maiTiage- ceremony  is  a  protecting  talisman, 
that  may  be  held  up  to  other  women  as  an  iron  shield  upon  which 
all  their  egotistical  wishes,  all  their  extravagant  demands  must  re- 
bound. Moreover,  a  married  man  is  entirely  sans  consequence  for 
all  unmarried  women,  and  if  they  should  love  such  a  one,  the  happy 
mortal  may  be  convinced  that  his  love  is  really  a  caprice  of  the 
heart,  and  not  a  selfish  calculation  or  desire  to  marry. " 

The  prince  regarded  the  smiling  courtier  earnestly,  almost 
angrily.  "  Do  you  know, "  he  said,  "  that  what  you  say  appears  to 
me  very  immoral?" 

"Immoral?"  asked  Pollnitz,  astonished;  "what  is  that?  Your 
princely  highness  knows  that  I  received  my  education  at  the  French 
court,  under  the  protection  of  the  Regent  of  Orleans  and  the  Princess 
of  the  Palatinate,  and  there  I  never  heard  this  word  immoral.  Per- 
haps your  highness  will  have  the  kindness  to  explain  it  to  me. " 

"That'  wQiUd  be  preaching  to  de^f  eare,"  s^id  the  prince,  shrug- 


84  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ging  his  blioulders.  "We  will  not  quarrel  about  the  meaning  of  a 
word.  I  only  wish  to  make  you  understand  that  I  would  not  marry 
at  my  brother's  hon  plaisir.  I  will  not  continue  this  race  of  miser- 
able princes,  that  are  entirely  useless,  and  consequently  a  burden  to 
the  state.  Oh !  if  Heaven  would  only  give  me  the  opportunity  to 
distinguish  myself  before  this  people,  and  give  to  this  name  that  is 
60  small,  so  unworthy,  a  splendor,  a  color,  a  signification  !" 

"  Your  highness  is  ambitous, "  said  Pollnitz,  as  the  prince,  now 
silent,  paced  his  room  with  deep  emotion. 

"  Yes,  I  am  ambitious — I  thirst  for  action,  renown,  and  activity. 
I  despise  this  monotonous,  colorless  existence,  without  end  or  aim. 
My  God  I  how  happy  I  should  be,  if,  instead  of  a  prince,  I  could  be 
a  simple  private  man,  proprietor  of  a  small  landed  estate,  with  a 
few  hundred  subjects,  that  I  should  endeavor  to  make  happy  I  But 
I  am  nothing  but  a  king's  brother,  have  nothing  but  my  empty  title 
and  the  star  upon  my  coat.  My  income  is  so  small,  so  pitiful,  that 
it  would  scarcely  suffice  to  pay  the  few  servants  I  have,  if,  at  the 
same  time,  they  were  not  paid  by  the  king  as  his  spies." 

"But  all  this  will  cease  as  soon  as  you  speak  the  decisive  word  ; 
as  soon  as  you  declare  yourself  prepared  to  marry. " 

"And  you  dare  to  tell  me  this?"  cried  the  prince,  with  flashing 
eyes — "you,  that  know  I  love  a  lady  who  is  unfortunately  no  prin- 
cess ;  or  do  you  believe  that  a  miserable  prince  has  not  the  heart  of 
a  man — that  he  does  not  possess  the  ardent  desire,  the  painful  long- 
ing for  the  woman  he  loves?" 

"  Oh,  women  do  not  deserve  that  we  should  love  them  so  ardently  ; 
they  are  all  fickle  and  inconstant,  believe  me,  my  prince." 

The  prince  cast  a  quick,  questioning  glance  at  the  smiling  coim- 
tenance  of  the  courtier. 

"Why  do  you  say  this  to  me?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"Because  I  am  convinced  of  its  truth,  your  highness  ;  because  I 
believe  no  woman  has  the  power  to  preserve  her  love  when  obstacles 
are  placed  in  the  way,  or  .that  she  can  be  faithful  for  the  short  space 
of  eight  days,  if  her  lover  is  absent. " 

The  prince  was  startled,  and  looked  terrified  at  Pollnitz. 

"  Eight  days, "  he  murmured ;  "  it  is  eight  days — no,  it  is  twelve 
since  I  saw  Louise. " 

"Ah,  twelve  days  ! — and  your  highness  has  the  really  heroic  be- 
lief that  she  still  loves  you?" 

The  prince  sighed,  and  his  brow  clouded,  but  only  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  his  coimtenance  was  again  bright  and  his  eyes  sparkled. 

"Yes,  I  have  this  belief;  and  why  should  I  not  have  it,  as  my 
own  heart  had  stood  the  trial  ?  I  have  not  seen  her  for  twelve  days, 
hftve  not;  heard  of  h^r,  and  still  my  love  is  as  great  and  as  ardent  ^ 


THE  UNWILLING  BRIDEGROOM.  35 

ever.     Yes,  I  believe  that  at  the  thought  of  her  my  heart  beats  more 
quickly,  more  longingly  than  if  I  had  her  in  my  arms. " 

"  The  reason  of  this, "  said  PoUnitz,  almost  sympathetically,  "  is 
that  it  is  your  iirst  love. " 

Prince  Henry  looked  at  him  angrily 

"  You  are  wrong  and  most  unjust  to  this  beautiful  woman,  who 
remained  good  and  pure  in  the  midst  of  the  corrupting  and  terrible 
circumstances  in  which  destiny  placed  her.  She  preserved  a  chaste 
heart,  an  unspotted  soul.  Her  misfortunes  only  refined  her,  and 
therefore  I  love  her,  and  believe  that  God  has  placed  me  in  her  way 
that,  after  all  her  sufferings,  I  might  make  her  happy.  Oh,  pre- 
cisely because  of  her  sorrows,  the  shameful  slanders  with  which  she 
is  pursued,  and  all  for  which  she  is  reproached,  I  love  her. " 

"Well,  my  prince,"  sighed  PoUnitz,  with  a  tragical  expression, 
"  I  never  saw  a  bolder  hero  and  a  more  pious  Christian  than  your 
highness. " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Pollnitz?" 

"That  an  enormous  amount  of  bravery  is  necessary,  prince,  to 
believe  Madame  von  Kleist  chaste  and  innocent,  and  that  only  a 
pious  Christian  can  count  himself  so  entirely  among  those  of  whom 
Christ  says,  '  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  be- 
lieved. '  May  a  good  fairy  long  preserve  you  your  bravery  and  your 
Christianity  !  But  surely  your  highness  must  have  important  and 
convincing  proofs  to  believe  in  the  innocence  and  faithfulness  of 
this  woman.  I  confess  that  any  other  man  would  have  been  dis- 
couraged in  his  godlike  belief  by  facts.  It  is  a  fact  that  for  twelve 
days  Madame  von  Kleist  has  sent  you  no  message  through  me  ;  it  is 
a  fact  that  she  was  not  at  the  masked  ball ;  that  as  often  as  I  have 
been  to  her  in  these  last  days,  to  deliver  letters  for  your  highness, 
and  to  obtain  hers  in  return,  she  has  never  received  me,  always 
excused  herself ;  and,  therefore,  I  could  not  receive  her  letter.'?,  nor 
deliver  those  of  your  highness." 

"And  were  you  not  in  Berlin  early  this  morning?  Did  you  not 
go  to  her  as  I  ordered  you,  and  tell  her  she  might  expect  me  this 
evening?" 

"I  went  to  her  house,  but  in  vain;  she  was  with  the  queen 
mother,  and  I  was  told  that  she  would  not  return  until  late  in  the 
evening,  I  therefore  could  not  deliver  the  message,  your  highness." 

The  prince  stamped  his.  foot  impatiently,  and  walked  hastily 
to  and  fro ;  his  brow  was  clouded,  his  lips  trembled  with  inward 
emotion.  The  sharp  eye  of  the  baron  followed  with  an  attentive, 
pitiless  glance  every  movement  of  his  face,  noted  every  sigh  that 
came  from  his  anxious  heart,  that  he  might  judge  whether  the  seeils 
of  mistrust  that  he  had  sown  in  the  breast  of  the  prince  would  grow. 


86         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  PAMn.Y. 

But  Prince  Henry  was  still  young,  brave,  and  hopeful ;  it  was 
his  first  love  they  wished  to  poison,  but  his  young,  healthy  nature 
withstood  the  venom,  and  vanquished  its  evil  effects.  His  counte- 
nance resumed  its  quiet,  earnest  expression,  and  the  cloud  disap- 
peared from  his  brow 

"  Do  you  know, "  he  said,  standing  before  Pollnitz,  and  looking 
smilingly  into  his  cunning  face — "do  you  know  that  you  do  not 
descend,  as  the  rest  of  mankind,  from  Adam  and  Eve,  but  in  a 
direct  line  from  the  celebrated  serpent?  And  truly  you  do  honor  to 
your  ancestor  !  No  paradise  is  holy  to  you,  and  to  do  evil  gives  you 
pleasure.  But  you  shall  not  disturb  my  paradise  ;  and  as  much  of 
the  old  Adam  as  is  still  in  me,  I  will  not  be  foolish  enough  to  eat  of 
the  bitter  fruit  that  you  offer  me.  No,  you  shall  not  succeed  in 
making  me  jealous  and  distioistful ;  you  shall  not  destroy  my  faith  : 
and  see  you,  those  that  believe  are  still  in  paradise,  notwithstanding 
your  ancestor,  the  serpent. " 

"  My  prince, "  said  PoUnitz,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  your  high- 
ness looks  upon  me  as  a  kind  of  Messiah — at  least  it  pleases  you  to 
give  me  a  mother  and  no  father.  But  oh,  my  prince !  if  you  are 
right  about  my  descent,  philosophers  are  certainly  wrong,  for  they 
maintain  that  the  serpent  of  paradise  left  gold  as  a  fearful  inheri- 
tance to  mankind.  I  shall  accuse  my  great-grandmother  the  serpent 
of  disinheriting  me  and  condemning  me  to  live  upon  the  generosity 
of  my  friends  and  patrons. " 

He  looked  at  the  prince,  with  a  sly,  covetous  glance,  but  he  had 
not  understood  him ;  engaged  in  deep  thought,  he  had  stepped  to 
the  window,  and  was  gazing  up  at  the  heavens,  where  the  clouds 
were  chasing  each  other. 

"She  will  be  the  entire  day  with  my  mother,  and  I  shall  not  see 
her, "  he  murmured.  Then,  turning  hastily  to  Pollnitz,  he  asked, 
"How  is  the  queen-mother?  Did  I  not  hear  that  she  was  suflfer- 
ing?" 

"  Certainly,  your  highness,  a  severe  attack  of  gout  confines  her  to 
her  chair,  and  holds  her  prisoner. " 

"  Poor  mother !  it  is  long  since  I  saw  you. " 

"  It  is  true,  the  queen  complained  of  it  the  last  time  I  spoke  with 
her,"  said  Pollnitz,  with  a  perfectly  serious  face,  but  with  inward 
rejoicing. 

Another  pause  ensued.  The  prince  appeared  to  reflect,  and  to 
struggle  with  his  own  thoughts  and  wishes.  Pollnitz  stood  behind 
him,  and  noted  every  motion,  every  sigh  that  he  uttered,  with  his 
malicious  smiles. 

"I  believe,"  said  the  prince,  with  still  averted  face,  perhaps  to 
prevent  Pollnitz  from  seeing  his  blushes— "I  believe  it  would  be 


THE  UNWILLING  BRIDEGROOM.  37 

proper  for  me  to  inquire  to-day  personally  after  my  mother's  health  ; 
it  is  not  only  my  duty  to  do  so.  but  the  desire  of  my  heart. " 

"  Her  majesty  will  be  pleased  to  see  her  beloved  son  again,  and 
this  pleasure  will  hasten  her  recovery. " 

The  prince  turned  hastily  and  glanced  sharply  at  Pollnitz,  as  if 
he  wished  to  read  his  inmost  thoughts.  But  the  countenance  of  the 
courtier  was  earnest  and  respectful. 

"If  that  is  j'our  opinion, "  said  the  prince,  with  a  happy  smile, 
"  my  duty  as  a  son  demands  that  I  should  hasten  to  the  queen,  and  I 
will  go  immediately  to  Berlin.  But  as  I  am  going  to  my  mother, 
and  solely  on  her  account,  I  will  do  it  in  the  proper  form.  Have, 
therefore,  the  kindness  to  obtain  my  leave  of  the  king — bring  me 
my  brother's  answer  immediately,  I  only  await  it  to  depart." 

"And  I  hasten  to  bring  it  to  your  highness,"  said  Pollnitz,  with- 
drawing. 

Prince  Henry  looked  thoughtfully  after  him. 

"  I  shall  see  her, "  he  murmured ;  "  I  shall  speak  with  her,  and 
shall  learn  why  she  withdrew  herself  so  long  from  me.  Oh,  I  know 
she  will  be  able  to  justify  herself,  and  these  slanders  and  evil  reports 
will  flee  before  her  glance  as  clouds  before  the  rays  of  the  sun. " 

In  the  mean  while,  Pollnitz  hastened  to  Sans  Souci,  where  he 
was  immediately  received  by  the  king. 

"Your  majesty,"  he  said,  joyfully,  "the  young  lion  has  fallen 
into  the  net  that  we  set  for  him." 

"He  goes  then  to  Berlin,  to  the  queen-mother?"  asked  the  king, 
quickly. 

"He  begs  your  majesty's  permission  to  take  this  little  trip." 

"He  really  charged  you  with  this  commission?" 

"Yes,  sire  :  it  appears  that  his  obstinacy  is  beginning  to  relent, 
and  that  he  thinks  of  submitting. " 

The  king  was  silent,  and  walked  thoughtfully  to  and  fro,  with 
clouded  brow,  then  remained  standing  before  Pollnitz,  and  looked 
sharply  and  piercingly  at  him. 

"  You  rejoice, "  he  said,  coldly,  "  but  you  only  think  of  your  own 
advantage.  You  are  indifferent  to  the  sorrow  we  are  preparing  for 
my  brother.  You  only  think  that  your  debts  will  be  paid.  Yes,  I 
will  pay  them,  but  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  have  betrayed  my 
brother's  confidence." 

"  I  only  acted  according  to  your  majesty's  commands, "  said  Poll- 
nitz, confounded. 

"  Certainly,  but  if  you  had  resisted  my  commands,  I  would  have 
esteemed  and  prized  you  the  more.  Now,  I  shall  pay  your  debts, 
but  I  shall  despise  you.     No  one  has  reasons  for  thanking  you. " 

"  (Sire,  I  desire  no  otljer  t^^jijkf?.    H[a4  I  been  paid  with  pionejr 


4:0GGi5 


38  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

for  my  services,  instead  of  fine  speeches,  I  would  have  been  as  rich 
as  CrcEsus. " 

"And  a  beggar  in  virtue,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "But  go,  I 
was  wrong  to  reproach  you.  I  shall  now  go  to  Berlin,  and  when 
my  brother  arrives  he  shall  find  me  there.  Go  now,  my  grand 
chamberlain,  and  take  the  prince  my  permission  for  a  three  days' 
q,bsence. " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  FmST  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

A  FEW  hours  later  the  equipage  of  Prince  Henry  arrived  in  the 
court-yard  of  Monbi  jou,  and  the  prince  demanded  of  his  mother,  the 
widowed  queen,  permission  to  pay  her  his  respects. 

Sophia  Dorothea  was  suffering  greatly.  The  gout,  that  slow  but 
fatal  disease,  which  does  not  kill  at  once,  but  limb  by  limb,  had 
already  paralyzed  the  feet  of  the  poor  queen,  and  confined  her  to  her 
chair.  To-day  her  sufferings  were  greater  than  usual,  and  she  was 
not  able  to  leave  her  bed.  Therefore,  she  could  not  receive  the 
prince  as  a  queen,  but  only  as  a  mother,  without  ceremony  or  eti- 
quette. That  the  meeting  might  be  entirely  without  constraint,  the 
maids  of  honor  left  the  queen's  room,  and  as  the  prince  entered,  he 
saw  the  ladies  disappearing  by  another  door  ;  the  last  one  had  just 
made  her  farewell  bow,  and  was  kissing  respectfully  the  queen's 
hand. 

Tliis  was  Louise  von  Kleist,  for  whose  sake  the  prince  had  come, 
and  for  whom  his  heart  throbbed  painfully.  He  could  have  cried 
aloud  for  joy  as  he  saw  her  in  her  bewildering  loveliness,  her  luxu- 
riant beauty.  He  longed  to  seize  her  hands  and  cover  them  with 
kisses — to  tell  her  how  much  he  had  suffered,  how  much  he  was  still 
suffering  for  her  sake. 

But  Louise  appeared  not  to  have  seen  him,  not  to  have  noticed 
his  entrance.  She  had  only  eyes  and  ears  for  the  queen,  who  was 
just  dismissing  her  with  winning  words,  telling  her  to  remain  in 
the  castle  and  return  when  she  desired  to  see  her. 

"I  shall  remain  and  await  your  majesty's  commands,"  said 
Louise,  withdrawing  hastily. 

The  queen  now  greeted  the  prince  as  if  she  had  just  observed 
him,  and  invited  him  to  be  seated  on  ihefauteuil  near  her  couch. 

The  prince  obeyed,  but  he  was  absent-minded  and  restless,  and 
the  more  the  queen  endeavored  to  engage  him  in  harmless  and  un- 
PQustraiped  conver8^,tion,  the  more  inonosyUf|,bic  and  preoccupied 


THE  FIRST  DISAPPOINTMENT.  39 

he  became.  The  poor  prince  remembered  only  that  his  beloved  was 
so  near,  that  only  a  door  separated  them,  and  prevented  him  from 
gazing  on  her  beauty. 

Yes,  Louise  was  really  in  the  next  room,  in  the  cabinet  of  the 
queen,  sorrowful  and  exhausted  ;  she  had  fallen  upon  the  little  sofa 
near  the  door,  the  smile  had  left  her  lips,  and  her  brilliant,  bewitch- 
ing eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  Louise  wept ;  she  wept  for  her  last 
youthful  dream,  her  last  hope  of  happiness  and  virtue,  for  her  sad, 
shadowed  future  and  wounded  pride ;  for  to-day  she  had  to  resign 
forever  the  proud  hopes,  the  brilliant  future  for  which  she  had 
striven  with  so  much  energy. 

But  it  was  vain  to  struggle  against  this  hard  necessity.  The 
king  had  given  her  his  orders  and  was  there  to  see  them  carried  out. 
He  sat  behind  that  portiere  that  led  into  the  grand  saloon  ;  he  had 
just  left  Loui.se,  and,  before  going,  had  said  to  her,  in  a  stern,  com- 
manding tone : 

^  You  will  fulfil  my  commands  accurately.  You  know  that  Fritz 
Wendel  still  lives,  and  that  I  shall  be  inexorable  if  you  do  not  act  as 
you  have  promised." 

Louise  submitted  respectfully  to  the  king's  commands  ;  she  ac- 
cepted her  fate,  but  she  wept  bitterly,  and  when  she  felt  that  the 
king's  eyes  were  no  longer  upon  her,  her  tears  flowed  unceasingly. 

Perhaps  Frederick  still  saw  her,  or  suspected  her  weakness,  for 
the  portUre  opened  slightly,  and  his  noble,  but  stern  countenance 
appeared. 

"  Madame, "  he  said,  "  if  the  prince  sees  you  with  tearful  eyes,  he 
will  not  believe  in  your  happiness." 

Louise  smiled  painfully.  "Ah  !  sire,  he  will  believe  I  am  weep- 
ing for  joy.     I  have  often  heard  of  joyful  tears. " 

The  king  did  not  reply ;  he  felt  for  her  agony,  and  closed  the 
portih"e. 

"  I  will  cry  no  more, "  she  said ;  "  I  have  accepted  my  destiny, 
and  will  fulfil  it  bravely  for  the  sake  of  my  daughter.  It  concerns 
Camilla's  happiness  more  than  my  own.  I  will  deserve  the  respect 
of  my  unfortunate  child. " 

In  saying  this,  a  smile  like  a  sunbeam  illuminated  her  counte- 
nance. But  now  she  started  up,  and  laid  her  hand  in  terror  upon 
her  heart.  She  heard  steps  approaching.  The  door  moved,  and  in 
a  moment  the  king  appeared  and  motioned  to  her. 

"  Courage,  courage !"  murmured  Louise,  and  with  instinctive 
fear  she  flew  away  from  the  door  and  placed  herself  in  the  niche  of 
the  last  window. 

To  reach  her,  the  prince  must  cross  the  saloon  ;  that  would  give 
her  a  few  moments  to  recover.     Tlie  door  opened  and  Prince  Henry 


40         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAAHLY. 

entered  ;  his  glance  flew  quickly  over  the  saloon,  and  found  the  one 
he  sought 

Louise  could  have  shrieked  with  agony  when  she  saw  the  tender 
smile  with  which  he  greeted  her.  Never  had  he  appeared  so  hand- 
some, so  noble  as  at  this  moment,  when  she  must  resign  him  for- 
ever. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  think  of  this,  no  time  for  complaints  or 
regrets.  He  was  there,  he  stood  before  her,  offered  both  his  hands, 
and  greeted  her  with  the  tenderest  words  of  love. 

Louise  had  a  stern  part  to  play,  and  she  dared  not  listen  to  her 
heart's  pleadings. 

"  Ah,  my  prince, "  she  said,  with  a  laugh  that  sounded  to  herself 
like  the  wail  of  a  lost  soul — "ah,  my  prince,  take  care  I  we  women 
are  very  credulous,  and  I  might  take  your  jesting  words  for  truth. " 

"  I  advise  you  to  do  so, "  said  the  prince,  happy  and  unconcerned, 
"  Yes,  Louise,  I  advise  you  to  do  so,  for  you  know  well  that  my  jest- 
ing words  have  an  earnest  meaning.  And  now  that  we  are  alone, 
we  will  dispense  with  ceremony.  You  must  justify  yourself  before 
a  lover — a  lover  who  is  unfortunately  very  jealous.  Yes,  yes,  Louise, 
that  is  my  weakness ;  I  do  not  deny  it,  I  am  jealous — jealous  of  all 
those  who  keep  you  from  me,  who  prevent  my  receiving  your  letters. " 

"  My  letters !"  said  Louise,  astonished ;  "  why  should  I  have 
written  letters  to  your  highness?  I  do  not  believe  it  is  the  custom 
for  ladies  to  write  to  gentlemen  voluntarily.  It  has  been  two 
weeks  since  I  received  a  letter  from  your  highness. " 

"  Because  it  was  impossible  for  my  messenger  to  deliver  them, 
Louise ;  you  were  so  unapproachable,  at  least  for  me.  But  you 
must  have  known  that  my  thoughts  were  always  with  you,  that  my 
heart  pined  for  news  and  comfort  from  you. " 

"Non,  vraiment,  I  did  not  know  it,"  said  Louise,  laughingly. 

"You  did  not  know  it?"  asked  Heniy,  wonderingly.  "Well, 
what  did  you  suppose?" 

"  I  thought, "  she  said,  carelessly — "  I  thought  that  Prince  Henry 
had  overcome  or  forgotten  his  little  folly  of  the  carnival." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  I  determined  to  follow  bis  example.  Then  I  preached  a 
longsermon  to  my  foolish  eyes — they  were  misty  with  tears.  Listen, 
I  said  to  them  :  '  You  foolish  things  you  have  no  reason  to  weep ; 
you  should  always  look  bright  and  dazzling,  even  if  you  never  see 
Prince  Henry  again.  Really,  the  absence  of  the  prince  has  been 
most  fortunate  for  you.  You  might  have  whispered  all  kinds  of 
foolish  things  to  my  weak  heart.  The  prince  is  young,  handsome, 
and  amiable,  and  it  amuses  him  to  win  the  love  of  fair  ladies.  Had 
you  seen  him  more  frequently,  it  is  jjossible  he  might  have  succeeded 


THE  FmsT  DISAPPOINTMENT.  41 

with  poor  Louise,  and  the  little  flirtation  we  caiTied  on  together 
would  have  resulted  in  earnest  love  on  my  part.  That  would  have 
been  a  great  misfortune.  Laugh  and  look  joyous,  beautiful  eyes, 
you  have  saved  me  from  an  unrequited  love.  You  should  not  weep, 
but  rejoice.  Look  around  and  find  another  suitor,  who  would,  per- 
haps, love  me  so  fondly  that  he  could  not  forget  me  in  a  few  days  ; 
whose  love  I  might  return  with  ardor.'  This,  my  prince,  is  the 
sermon  I  preached  to  my  eyes  when  they  grew  dim  with  tears. " 

"And  was  your  sermon  effective?"  said  the  prince,  with  pale, 
trembling  lips.  "  Did  your  eyes,  those  obedient  slaves,  look  around 
and  find  another  lover  V" 

"  Ah  !  your  highness,  how  can  you  doubt  it?  My  eyes  are  indeed 
my  slaves,  and  must  obey.  Yes,  they  looked  and  found  the  happi- 
ness they  sought. " 

"  What  happiness, "  asked  Henry,  apparently  quite  tranquil,  but 
he  pressed  his  hand  nervously  on  the  chair  that  stood  by  him — "  what 
happiness  did  your  eyes  find  ?" 

Louise  looked  at  him  and  sighed  deeply.  "  The  happiness, "  she 
said,  and  against  her  will  her  voice  trembled  and  faltered — "  the 
happiness  that  a  true,  earnest  love  alone  can  give — which  I  have 
received  joyously  into  my  heart  as  a  gift  from  God. " 

The  prince  laughed  aloud,  but  his  face  had  a  wild,  despairing  ex- 
pression, and  his  hands  clasped  the  chair  more  firmly. 

"I  do  not  understand  your  holy,  pious  words.  What  do  they 
mean?    What  do  you  wish  to  say?" 

"  They  mean  that  I  now  love  so  truly  and  so  earnestly  that  I  have 
promised  to  become  the  wife  of  the  man  I  love, "  said  Louise,  with 
forced  gayety. 

The  prince  uttered  a  wild  cry,  and  raised  his  hands  as  if  to  curse 
the  one  who  had  wovmded  him  so  painfully. 

"  If  this  is  true, "  he  said,  in  a  deep,  hollow  voice — "  if  this  is 
true,  I  despise,  I  hate  you,  and  they  are  right  who  call  you  a  heart- 
less coquette." 

"  Ah,  my  prince,  you  insult  me, "  cried  Louise. 

"I  insult  you!"  he  said,  with  a  wild  laugh;  "verily,  I  believe 
this  woman  has  the  effrontery  to  reproach  me — I  who  believed  in 
and  defended  her  against  every  accusation — I  that  had  the  courage 
to  love  and  trust,  when  all  others  distrusted  and  despised  her.  Yes, 
madame,  I  loved  you ;  I  saw  in  you  a  goddess,  where  others  saw 
only  a  coquette.  I  adored  you  as  an  innocent  sacrifice  to  envy  and 
malice ;  I  saw  a  martyr's  crown  upon  your  brow,  and  wished  to 
change  it  for  the  myrtle-crown  of  man'iage.  And  my  love  and 
hopes  are  dust  and  ashes  ;  it  is  enough  to  drive  me  mad — enough  to 
stifle  me  with  rage  and  shame. " 
4 


42         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Carried  away  by  passion,  the  prince  ran  wildly  through  the  sa- 
loon, gasping  for  air,  struggling  for  composure,  and  now  and  then 
uttering  words  of  imprecation  and  despair. 

Louisea  waited,  in  silence  and  resignation,  the  end  of  this  stormy 
crisis.  She  questioned  her  heart  if  this  bitter  hour  was  not  sufficient 
atonement  for  all  her  faults  and  follies  ;  if  the  agony  she  now  suffered 
did  not  wipe  out  and  extirpate  the  past. 

The  prince  still  paced  the  room  violently.  Suddenly,  as  if  a  new 
thought  had  seized  him,  he  remained  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
saloon,  and  looked  at  Louise  witli  a  strangely  altered  countenance. 
She  had  forgotten  for  a  moment  the  part  she  was  condemned  to  play, 
and  leaned,  pale  and  sad,  against  the  window. 

Perhaps  he  heard  her  sorrowful  siglis — perhaps  he  saw  her  tears 
as  they  rolled  one  by  one  from  her  eyes,  and  fell  like  pearls  upon  her 
small  white  hands. 

Anger  disappeared  from  his  face,  his  brow  cleared,  and  as  he 
approached  Louise  his  eyes  sparkled  with  another  and  milder  fire. 

"  Louise, "  he  said,  softly,  and  his  voice,  which  had  before  raged 
like  a  stormy  wind,  was  now  mild  and  tender — "Louise,  I  have 
divined  your  purpose — I  know  all  now.  At  first,  I  did  not  under- 
stand your  words ;  in  my  folly  and  jealousy  I  misconceived  your 
meaning  ;  you  only  wished  to  try  me,  to  see  if  my  love  was  armed 
and  sti'ong,  if  it  was  as  bold  and  faithful  as  I  have  sworn  it  to  be. 
Well,  I  stood  the  test  badly,  was  weak  and  faint-hearted ;  but  for- 
give me — forgive  me,  Louise,  and  strengthen  my  heart  by  confi- 
dence and  faith  in  me. " 

He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  withdrew  it. 

"  Must  I  repeat  to  your  highness  what  I  have  said  before?  I  do 
not  understand  you.     Wliat  do  you  mean?" 

"Ah,"  said  the  prince,  "you  are  again  my  naughty,  sportive 
Louise.  Well,  then,  I  will  explain.  Did  you  not  say  that  you  now 
love  so  truly,  that  you  have  promised  to  become  the  wife  of  the  man 
you  love?" 

"  Yes,  I  said  that,  your  highness. " 

"  And  I, "  said  the  prince,  seizing  both  her  hands  and  gazing  at 
her  ardently — "I  was  so  short-sighted,  so  ungrateful,  as  not  to  un- 
derstand you.  Tlie  many  sorrows  and  vexations  I  suffer  away  from 
you  have  dimmed  my  eyes  and  prevented  me  from  seeing  what  is 
written  with  golden  letters  upon  your  smiling  lips  and  beaming 
eyes.  Ah,  Louise,  I  thank  you  for  your  precious  words ;  at  last  you 
are  captured,  at  last  you  have  resolved  to  become  the  wife  of  him 
who  adores  you.  I  thank  you,  Louise,  I  thank  you,  and  I  swear 
that  no  earthly  pomp  or  power  could  make  me  as  proud  and  happy 
as  this  assurance  of  your  love. " 


THE  FIRST  DISAPPOINTMENT.  43 

Louise  gazed  into  his  beautiful,  smiling  face  with  terror. 

"  Ah,  my  prince,  my  words  have  not  the  meaning  you  imagine. 
I  spoke  the  simple  truth.  My  heart  has  made  its  choice — since  yes- 
terday, I  am  the  betrothed  wife  of  Captain  du  Trouffle. " 

"  That  is  not  true, "  cried  the  prince,  casting  her  hands  violently 
from  him.  "You  are  very  crue|,  to-day  ;  you  torture  me  with  your 
fearful  jests. " 

"No,  your  highness,  I  speak  the  truth.  I  am  the  betrothed  of 
Captain  du  Trouffle. " 

"  Since  yesterday  you  are  the  betrothed  of  Captain  du  Trouffle  !" 
repeated  the  prince,  staring  at  her  wildly.  "  And  you  say  you  love 
him,  Louise?" 

"Yes,  your  highness,  I  love  him,"  said  Louise,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

"  It  is  impossible, "  cried  the  prince  ;  "  it  is  not  true. " 

"And  why  should  I  deceive  your  highness?" 

"Why?— ah,  I  understand  all.  Oh,  Ijouise,  my  poor  darling, 
how  short-sighted  I  have  been !  Why  did  I  not  immediately  suspect 
my  brother? — he  has  spies  to  watch  all  my  movements ;  they  have 
at  last  discovered  my  love  for  you.  Pollnitz,  who  would  do  any 
thing  for  gold,  has  betrayed  us  to  the  king,  who  condemns  me  to 
marry  according  to  my  rank,  and,  to  carry  out  his  purpose  surely, 
he  now  forces  you  to  marry.  Oh,  Louise,  say  that  this  is  so ;  ac- 
knowledge that  the  power  of  the  king,  and  not  your  own  heart, 
forced  you  to  this  engagement.  It  is  impossible,  it  cannot  be  that 
you  have  forgotten  the  vows  that  we  exchanged  scarcely  two  weeks 
ago.  It  cannot  be  that  you  look  upon  the  heart  that  loved  you  so 
deeply,  so  purely,  as  an  idle  plaything,  to  be  thrown  away  so  lightly  ! 
No,  no,  Louise,  I  have  seen  often  in  your  beaming  eyes,  your  elo- 
quent smiles,  I  have  felt  in  your  soft  and  tender  tones,  that  you 
loved  me  fondly  ;  and  now  in  your  pale,  sad  face  I  see  that  you  love 
me  still,  and  that  it  is  the  king  who  wishes  to  separate  us.  My 
poor,  lovely  child,  you  have  been  intimidated ;  you  think  that  my 
brother,  who  reigns  supreme  over  millions,  will  yield  to  no  obstacle, 
that  it  is  vain  to  resist  him.  But  you  are  mistaken,  Louise ;  you 
have  forgotten  that  I  am  Frederick's  brother,  that  the  proud,  un- 
conquerable blood  of  the  Hohenzollems  flows  also  in  my  veins.  Let 
my  brother  try  to  force  me  to  his  purpose  ;  I  shall  be  no  weak  tool 
in  his  hands.  You  had  not  firm  confidence  in  your  lover,  Louise  ; 
you  did  not  know  that  I  would  resign  cheerfully  rank  and  all  family 
ties  for  your  sake  ;  you  did  not  know  that  I  had  sworn  to  marry  only 
the  woman  I  love.  This  I  must  do  to  satisfy  my  heart  and  my 
honor,  and  also  to  show  the  king  that  Prince  Henry  is  a  free  man. 
Now  t^ll  iije,  lyouise,  if  I  Ji?ive  not;  divjned  ^11,     Is  not  <;hi8  th© 


44  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

king's  cruel  work?  Ah,  you  do  not  answer,  you  are  silent.  I  un- 
derstand— the  king  has  made  you  swear  not  to  betray  him.  Now 
look  at  me,  Louise ;  make  me  a  sign  with  your  hand,  tell  me  with 
your  eyes,  and  I  will  comprehend  you — I  will  take  you  in  my  arms 
and  carry  you  to  the  altar.  My  God  !  Louise  do  you  not  see  that  I 
am  waiting  for  this  sign? — that  you  are  torturing  me?" 

Louise  raised  her  head,  her  heart  was  melting  within  her ;  she 
forgot  her  tenor,  and  was  ready  to  resist  God,  the  king,  and  the 
whole  world,  to  grasp  the  noble  and  unselfish  love  that  the  prince 
offered  her.  But  her  glance  fell  involuntarily  upon  the  curtain,  be- 
hind which  the  king  stood,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  saw  the 
angiy,  burning  eyes  of  Frederick  threatening  to  destroy  her.  She 
remembered  her  daughter,  Fritz  Wendel,  and  the  world's  mocking 
laughter,  and  was  overcome. 

"  You  are  still  silent, "  said  the  prince ;  "  you  give  me  neither 
sign  nor  glance. " 

Louise  felt  as  if  an  iron  hand  was  tearing  her  heart  asimder. 

"I  really  am  at  a  loss  what  more  to  say  or  do,"  she  said,  in  a 
careless  tone,  that  made  her  own  heart  shudder.  "It  pleases  your 
highness  to  make  a  jest  of  what  I  say.  I  am  innocent,  my  prince, 
of  any  double  meaning.  Five  weeks  have  passed  since  I  saw  you — 
I  believed  you  had  forgotten  me ;  I  did  not  reproach  you,  neither 
was  I  in  despair.  I  soon  found  that  it  was  stupid  and  dreary  to 
have  my  heart  unoccupied,  and  I  sought  for  and  soon  found  a  lover, 
to  whom  my  heart  became  a  willing  captive.  Therefore,  when 
Captain  Trouffle  pleaded  earnestly  for  my  hand,  I  had  not  the  cour- 
age to  say  no.  This  is  my  only  crime,  your  highness.  I  was  not 
cruel  to  myself  ;  I  received  the  happiness  that  was  offered.  I  have 
been  called  a  coquette,  my  prince  ;  it  is  time  to  bind  myself  in  mar- 
riage bonds,  and  show  the  world  that  love  can  make  an  honest 
woman  of  me.     Can  your  highness  blame  me  for  this?" 

The  prince  listened  with  breathless  attention ;  gradually  his 
countenance  changed,  the  color  faded  from  his  cheeks,  the  light 
from  his  eyes ;  a  smile  was  still  on  his  lips,  but  it  was  cold  and 
mocking ;  his  eyes  burned  with  anger  and  contempt. 

"No,  madame, "  he  said,  with  calm,  proud  indifference,  "I  do 
not  blame  you — I  praise,  I  congratulate  you.  Captain  du  Trouffle  is 
a  most  fortunate  man — he  will  possess  a  most  beautiful  wife.  When 
will  this  happy  ceremony  be  performed?" 

Madame  von  Kleist  was  unable  to  reply.  She  gazed  with  wild 
terror  into  his  cold,  iron  face— she  listened  with  horror  to  that  voice, 
whose  mild,  soft  tone  had  become  suddenly  so  harsh,  so  stem. 

The  prince  repeated  his  qn^fiop,  and  his  toije  wgs  hpT^©!"  ao4 
pjpj-e  imperjou?, 


THE  FIRST  DISAPPOINTMENT.  ^  45 

"  The  day  is  not  fixed, "  said  Louise ;  "  we  must  first  obtain  the 
king's  consent  to  our  marriage. " 

"  I  shall  take  care  it  does  not  fail  you, "  said  the  prince,  quietly. 
"  I  will  strengthen  your  petition  to  the  king.  Now,  madame,  you 
must  forgive  me  for  leaving  you.  Many  greetings  to  your  betrothed 
— I  shall  be  introduced  to  him  to-morrow  at  the  parade.  Farewell, 
madame !" 

The  prince  made  a  slight  bow,  and,  without  glancing  at  her 
again,  left  the  room  slowly  and  proudly. 

Louise  gazed  after  him  with  mournful  eyes,  but  he  did  not  see 
it ;  he  did  not  see  how  she  fell,  as  if  broken,  to  the  floor,  as  if  struck 
by  lightning  ;  and  when  the  door  closed  on  him  she  held  her  hands 
to  Heaven  pleadingly  for  mercy  and  forgiveness. 

The  portiire  now  opened,  and  the  king  entered ;  his  countenance 
was  pale,  his  eyes  tearful,  but  they  sparkled  with  anger  when  he 
saw  Louise  upon  the  floor.  For  him  she  was  but  a  heartless  coquette, 
and  he  was  angry  with  her  because  of  the  suffering  she  had  caused 
his  brother,  for  whom  he  felt  the  deepest  pity  and  compassion. 

But  that  was  now  past ;  the  brother  could  weep  a  tear  of  pity, 
the  king  must  be  firm  and  relentless. 

As  he  approached  her,  she  raised  herself  from  the  ground  and 
made  a  profound  and  ceremonious  bow. 

"  You  have  repaired  much  of  the  evil  you  have  done,  madame, " 
said  the  king,  sternly.  "You  have  played  a  dishonorable  game 
with  my  brother.     You  enticed  him  to  love  you. " 

"  I  think  I  have  atoned,  sire, "  said  Louise,  faintly  ;  "  the  prince 
no  longer  loves  but  despises  me.  Your  commands  are  fulfilled  to 
the  letter,  and  I  now  beg  your  majesty's  permission  to  withdraw." 

"Go.  madame  ;  you  have  done  your  duty  to-day,  and  I  will  also 
do  mine.  I  shall  not  forget  what  I  promised  you  when  you  are 
Madame  du  Troufile.  We  will  forget  all  the  faults  of  Madame  von 
Kleist." 

He  dismissed  her  with  a  slight  bow,  and  gazed  after  her  until 
she  had  disappeared. 

At  this  moment,  a  heavy  fall  was  heard  in  the  antechamber. 
The  door  opened  immediately,  and  the  pale,  disturbed  face  of  P611- 
nitz  appeared. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  PoUnitz?"  asked  the  king,  hastily. 

"Oh,  sire,  poor  Prince  Henry  has  fainted." 

The  king  was  startled,  and  stepped  quickly  to  the  door,  but  he 
remained  standing  there  until  his  features  resumed  their  calm 
expression. 

"He  will  recover,"  he  said — "he  will  recover,  for  he  is  a  man; 
in  my  youthful  days  I  often  fainted,  but  I  recovered. " 


46         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 
CHAPTER    X. 

THE  CONQUBRBD. 

Painful  and  bitter  were  the  days  for  Henry  that  followed  his 
first  disappointment.  He  passed  them  in  rigid  secliision,  in  his 
lonely  chambers ;  he  would  see  no  one,  no  cheerful  word  or  gay 
laughter  was  allowed  in  his  presence.  The  servants  looked  at  him 
sorrowfully ;  and  when  the  prince  appeared  at  the  parade  the  day 
after  his  painful  interview  with  Louise,  even  the  king  found  him  so 
pale  and  suffering,  he  begged  him  to  take  a  week's  leave  and 
strengthen  and  improve  his  health. 

The  prince  smiled  painfully  at  the  king's  proposition,  but  he 
accepted  his  leave  of  absence,  and  withdrew  to  the  solitude  of  his 
rooms.     His  heart  was  wounded  unto  death,  his  soul  was  agonized. 

Youth  soon  laid  its  healing  balm  upon  his  wounds  and  closed 
them  ;  anger  and  contempt  dried  his  tears,  and  soothed  the  anguish 
of  his  heart. 

The  king  was  riglit  when  he  said  of  his  brother,  "  He  is  a  man, 
and  will  recover."  He  did  recover,  and  these  days  of  suffering 
made  a  man  of  him  ;  his  brow,  once  so  clear  and  youthful,  had  re- 
ceived its  first  mark  of  sorrow ;  the  lines  of  his  face  were  harsh  and 
stern,  his  features  sharper  and  more  decided.  He  had  experienced 
his  fii-st  disappointment — it  had  nerved  and  strengthened  him. 

Before  liis  eight  days'  leave  of  absence  had  expired,  his  door  was 
again  open  to  his  circle  of  friends  and  confidants. 

His  first  invited  guest  was  the  grand  chamberlain,  Baron  P611- 
nitz.     The  prince  welcomed  him  with  a  bright  and  cheerful  face. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  wished  to  see  you?"  he  asked.  "  You  must 
tell  me  the  chronique  scandaleuse  of  our  most  honorable  and  virtuous 
city.     Commence  immediately.     What  is  the  o?i  di7  of  the  day?" 

"  Ah, "  sighed  PoUnitz,  "  life  is  now  stupid,  dull,  and  monotonous. 
As  you  say,  every  one  has  become  most  honorable  and  virtuous.  No 
scandals  or  piquant  adventures  occur ;  baptisms,  man-iages,  and 
burials  are  the  only  events.  This  is  really  a  miserable  existence ; 
for  as  I  do  not  wish  to  be  baptized  or  to  marry,  and  as  I  am  not  yet 
ready  for  burial,  I  really  do  not  know  why  I  exist. " 

"  But  those  that  are  maiTied  and  baptized,  doubtless  know  why 
they  exist, "  said  the  prince,  smiling.  "Tell  me  something  of  this 
happy  class.     Whose,  for  example,  is  the  latest  marriage?" 

"The  latest  marriage?"  said  Pollnitz,  hesitating — "  before  answer- 
ing, I  must  allow  myself  to  ask  after  the  condition  of  your  heart. 
Does  it  still  suffer?" 


THE  CONQUERED.  i? 

""No,"  cried  the  prince,  "it  does  not  suffer ;  it  received  a  heavy 
shower  of  cold  water,  and  was  cured  instantly. " 

"I  rejoice  to  hear  it,  your  highness,  and  congratulate  you  on 
yoiu*  recovery,  for  truly  there  is  no  more  painful  disease  than  a 
Buffering  heart. " 

"  I  told  you  that  I  had  recovered  fully  ;  tell  me,  therefore,  your 
news  without  hesitation.  You  spoke  of  a  marriage.  Who  were 
the  happy  lovers?" 

"Your  highness,  Madame  von  Kleist  has  married,"  murmured 
Pollnitz. 

The  prince  received  this  blow  without  betraying  the  slightest 
emotion. 

"When  did  the  marriage  take  place?"  he  asked,  with  perfect 
composure. 

"  Yesterday ;  and  I  assure  your  highness  that  I  never  saw  a  hap- 
pier or  more  brilliant  bride.  Love  has  transformed  her  into  a 
blushing,  timid  maiden. " 

Prince  Henry  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart  with  a  quick,  un- 
conscious movement. 

"I  can  well  imagine  that  she  was  beautiful, "  said  he,  controlling 
his  voice  with  a  great  effort.  "  Madame  von  Kleist  is  happy,  and 
happiness  always  beautifies.  And  the  bridegroom,  M.  du  Trouffle, 
was  he  also  handsome  and  happy?" 

"  Your  highness  knows  the  name  of  the  bride-groom, "  said  Poll- 
nitz, appearing  astonished. 

"  Yes,  Madame  von  Kleist  told  me  herself  when  she  announced 
her  approaching  marriage.  But  I  am  not  acquainted  with  Du 
TroufHe — is  he  handsome?" 

"Handsome  and  amiable,  your  highness,  and  besides,  a  very 
good  officer.  The  king  gave  him,  as  a  wedding  present,  a  major's 
commission. " 

"  Tlien  the  beautiful  Louise  is  now  Mrs.  Major  du  Trouffle, "  said 
the  prince,  with  a  troubled  sm  ile.  "  Were  you  present  at  the  wedding  ?" 

"Yes,  in  the  name  of  the  king." 

"Did  she  speak  the  decisive  Yes,  the  vow  of  faith  and  obedience, 
with  earnestness  and  confidence?  Did  she  not  blush,  or  droop  her 
eyelids  in  doing  so?" 

"Oh,  no;  she  smiled  as  if  entranced,  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
heaven,  as  if  praying  for  God's  blessing  upon  her  vows." 

"One  thing  more,"  said  the  pi-ince,  fixing  his  large,  grave  eyes 
with  a  searching  expression  upon  Pollnitz — "what  is  said  of  me? 
Am  I  regarded  as  a  rejected  lover,  or  as  a  faithless  one  ;  for  doubt- 
less all  Berlin  knows  of  my  love  for  this  ladv,  j^^ou  having  be^n  ov»r 
99nfidaijt," 


48  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Oh,  my  prince,  that  is  a  h^rd  insinuation, "  said  PoUnitz,  sadly. 
"  Your  highness  cannot  really  believe  that — " 

"  No  protestations,  I  pray  you, "  interrupted  the  princt,  "  1  believe 
I  know  you  thoroughly,  but  I  am  not  angry  with  you  nor  do  I  re- 
proach you  :  you  are  a  courtier,  and  one  of  the  best  and  rarest  type ; ' 
you  have  intellect  and  knowledge,  much  experience  and  sovoir 
vivre ;  I  could  desire  no  better  company  than  yourself ;  but  for  one 
moment  cast  aside  your  character  as  a  courtier,  and  tell  me  the 
truth :  what  does  the  world  cay  of  this  marriage  in  regard  to 
me?" 

"  Your  highness  desires  me  to  tell  you  the  truth?" 

•Yes,  I  do." 

"Now  the  important  moment  has  come,"  thought  Pollnitz. 
"  Now,  if  I  am  adroit,  I  believe  I  can  obtain  th»  payment  of  my 
debts." 

"Well,  then,  your  highness,"  said  Pollnitz,  in  answer  to  the 
prince,  "I  will  tell  you  the  truth,  even  should  I  incur  your  dis- 
pleasure. I  fear,  my  prince,  you  are  regarded  as  a  rejected  lover, 
and  Madame  du  TroufHe  has  succeeded  in  throwing  a  holy  lustre 
around  her  beautiful  brow.  It  is  said  that  she  refused  your  dishon- 
orable proposals,  and  preferred  being  the  virtuous  wife  of  a  major, 
to  becoming  the  mistress  of  a  prince. " 

"  Go  on, "  said  the  prince,  hastily,  as  Pollnitz  ceased,  and  looked 
searchingly  at  him.     "  What  do  they  say  of  me?" 

"That  you  are  in  despair,  and  that  you  have  retired  to  your 
chambers  to  weep  and  mourn  over  your  lost  love. " 

"Ah,  they  say  that,  do  they?"  cried  the  prince,  with  flashing 
eyes  and  darkened  brow ;  "  well,  I  will  show  this  credulous  world 
that  they  are  mistaken.     Is  the  king  in  Sans-Souci  ?" 

"Yes,  yovir  highness." 

"Well,  go  to  him,  and  announce  my  visit ;  I  will  follow  you  on 
foot." 

"We  have  won  the  day,"  cried  Pollnitz,  as  he  approached  the 
king;  "the  prince  desires  to  make  you  a  visit.  He  will  be  here 
immediately. " 

"Do  you  know  what  my  brother  wishes  of  me?"  asked  the  king. 

"I  do  not  know,  but  I  suspect,  sire.  I  think  he  wishes  to  marry, 
in  order  to  pique  his  faithless  sweetheart. " 

"Go  and  receive  the  prince,  and  conduct  him  to  me  ;  then  remain 
in  the  antechameber,  and  await  until  I  call. " 

When  Pollnitz  left,  the  king  seized  his  flute  hastily  and  began  to 
play  a  soft,  melting  adagio.  He  was  still  playing,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  the  prince  was  announced.  Henry  stood  in  th^  door- 
way, wd  made  tbe  king  a  ceremoiiiou?  l?9Wi 


THE  (:;ONQUERED.  49 

The  king  continued  to  play.  The  low,  pleading  notes  of  the  flute 
floated  softly  through  the  room ;  they  touched  the  heart  of  the 
prince,  and  quieted  its  wild,  stormy  beating. 

Was  that  the  king's  intention,  or  did  he  intend  to  harmonize  his 
own  spirit  before  speaking  to  his  brother?  Perhaps  both,  for 
Frederick's  glance  softened,  and  his  face  assumed  a  kind  and  mild 
expression. 

When  the  adagio  was  finished,  the  king  laid  his  flute  aside  and 
approached  the  prince. 

"Forgive  me,  brother,"  he  said,  offering  his  hand — "forgive  me 
for  keeping  you  waiting,  I  always  like  to  conclude  what  I  com- 
mence. Now,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,  and  as  I  am  unfortu- 
nately not  accustomed  to  receive  such  friendly  visits  from  you,  I 
must  ask  you  what  brings  you  to  me,  and  how  I  can  serve  you?" 

The  fierce,  violent  nature  of  the  prince  slumbered  but  lightly. 
The  king's  words  aroused  it,  and  made  his  pulse  and  heart  beat 
stormily. 

"How  you  can  serve  me,  my  brother?"  he  said,  hastily.  "I  will 
tell  you,  and  truthfully,  sire. " 

The  king  raised  his  head,  and  glanced  angrily  at  the  burning  face 
of  the  prince. 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  have  my  words  repeated,  and  all  find 
that  out  here  to  their  cost, "  he  said,  sternly. 

"  Have  the  goodness,  then,  to  tell  me  why  you  have  pursued  me 
so  long  and  unrelentingly  ?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  your  dis- 
pleasure and  such  bitter  humiliations?" 

"  Rather  ask  me  what  you  have  done  to  deserve  my  love  and  con- 
fidence, "  said  the  king,  sternly.  "  I  refer  you  to  yoTir  own  heart  for 
an  answer. " 

"  Ah,  your  majesty  promised  to  answer  my  questions,  and  now 
you  evade  them  ;  but  I  will  reply  frankly.  I  have  done  nothing  to 
deserve  your  love,  but  also  nothing  to  make  me  unworthy  of  it. 
Why  are  you,  who  are  so  good  and  kind  to  all  others,  so  stern  and 
harsh  with  me?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  truth, "  said  the  king,  earnestly.  "  You  have 
deserved  my  displeasure  ;  you  have  desired  to  be  a  free  man,  to  cast 
aside  the  yoke  that  Providence  placed  upon  you  ;  you  had  the  grand 
presvunption  to  dare  to  be  the  master  of  your  own  actions. " 

"  And  does  your  majesty  desire  and  expect  me  to  resign  this  most 
natural  of  human  rights?"  said  the  prince,  angrily. 

"  Yes,  I  desire  and  expect  it.  I  can  truthfully  say  that  I  have 
given  my  brothers  a  good  example  in  this  particular. " 

"  But  you  did  not  do  this  willingly.  You  were  cruelly  forced  to 
eubraission,  and  you  now  >y}sb  to  driv«  us  to  nn  extremity  you  have, 


50  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

doubtlessly,  long  since  forgotten.     Now,  you  suffered  and  struggled 
before  declaring  yourself  conquered." 

"  No, "  said  the  king,  softly,  "  I  have  not  forgotten.  I  still  feel 
the  wound  in  my  soul,  and  at  times  it  bums. " 

"And  yet,  my  brother?" 

"And  yet  I  will  have  no  pity  wuth  you.  I  say  to  you,  as  my 
father  said  to  me  :  'You  must  submit ;  you  are  a  prince,  and  I  am 
your  king !'  I  have  long  since  acknowledged  that  my  father  was 
right  in  hia  conduct  to  me.  I  was  not  only  a  disobedient  son,  but  a 
rebellious  subject.  I  richly  deserved  to  mount  the  scaffold  with 
Katte. " 

"Ah,  my  brother,  there  was  a  time  when  you  wept  for  this  faith- 
ful and  imfortunate  friend, "  cried  the  prince,  reproachfully. 

"  The  sons  of  kings  have  not  the  right  to  choose  their  own  path, 
destiny  has  marked  it  out  for  them ;  they  must  follow  it  without 
wavering.  I  neither  placed  the  crown  upon  my  head,  nor  the  yoke 
upon  your  neck.  We  must  bear  them  patiently,  as  God  and  Provi- 
dence have  ordained,  and  wear  them  with  grace  and  dignity.  You, 
mv  brother,  have  acted  like  a  wild  horse  of  the  desert— I  have  drawn 
the  reins  tight,  that  is  all !" 

"You  have  caught,  bound,  and  tamed  me,"  said  the  prince,  with 
a  faint  smile ;  "only  I  feel  that  the  bit  still  pains,  and  that  my 
limbs  still  tremble.  But  I  am  ready  to  submit,  and  I  came  to  tell 
you  so.  You  desire  me  to  marry,  I  consent ;  but  I  hold  you  respon- 
sible for  the  happiness  of  this  marriage.  At  God's  throne,  I  will 
call  you  to  justify  yourself,  and  there  we  will  speak  as  equals,  as 
man  to  man.  What  right  had  you  to  rob  me  of  my  most  holy  and 
beautiful  possession?  What  right  have  you  to  lay  a  heavy  chain 
on  heart  and  hand,  that  love  will  not  help  me  to  bear?  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  my  miserable  life,  my  shattered  hopes.  Will  you 
accept  these  conditions?    Do  j'ou  still  wish  me  to  marry?" 

"  I  accept  the  conditions, "  said  the  king,  solemnly.  "  I  desire 
j'ou  to  marry. " 

"  I  presume  your  majesty  has  chosen  a  bride  for  me?" 

"You  are  right,  mon  cher  frerc.  I  have  selected  the  Princess 
Wilhelmina,  daughter  of  Prince  Max,  of  Hesse-Cassel.  She  not 
only  brings  you  a  fortune,  but  youth,  beauty,  and  amiability. " 

"  I  thank  you,  sire, "  said  the  prince,  coldly  and  formally.  "  I 
would  marry  her  if  she  were  ugly,  old,  and  unamiable.  But  is  it 
allowed  me  to  add  one  condition  ?" 

"Speak,  my  brother,  I  am  listening." 

The  prince  did  not  anwser  immediately ;  he  breathed  quickly 
and  heavily,  and  a  glowing  red  suffused  his  pale,  trembling  face. 

"Speak,  my  brother.    Name  your  Qoeditipns, "  said  the  king. 


THE  CONQUERED.  51 

"  Well,  then,  so  be  it.  My  first  condition  is  that  I  may  be  allowed 
to  have  a  brilliant  wedding.  I  wish  to  invite  not  only  the  entire 
court,  but  a  goodly  number  of  Berliners ;  I  desire  all  Berlin  to  take 
part  in  my  happiness,  and  to  convince  eveiy  one,  by  my  gay  de- 
meanor and  my  entertainment,  that  I  joyfully  accept  my  bride,  the 
princess."  - 

The  king's  eyes  rested  sorrowfully  upon  his  brother's  counte- 
nance. He  fully  understood  the  emotions  of  his  heart,  and  knew 
that  his  brother  wished  to  wound  and  humiliate  his  faithless  sweet- 
heart by  his  marriage  ;  that  Henry  only  submitted  to  his  wishes  be- 
cause his  proud  heart  rebelled  at  the  thought  of  being  pitied  as  a 
rejected  lover.  But  he  was  considerate,  and  would  not  let  it  appear 
that  he  understood  him. 

"  I  agree  to  this  first  proposition, "  said  the  king,  after  a  pause, 
"and  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  be  present  at  this  beautiful /^fe, 
and  convince  Berlin  that  we  are  in  hearty  unison.  Have  you  no 
other  conditions?" 

"  Yea,  one  more. " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  my  marriage  shall  take  place,  at  the  latest,  in  a  month. " 

"  You  will  thus  fulfil  my  particular  and  personal  wish, "  said  the 
king,  smiling.  "  I  am  anxious  to  have  this  marriage  over,  for,  after 
the  gayeties,  I  wish  to  leave  Berlin.  All  the  arrangements  and 
contracts  are  completed,  and  I  think  now  there  is  no  obstacle  in  th^ 
way  of  the  marriage.     Have  you  another  wish,  my  brother?" 

"No,  sire." 

"  Then  allow  me  to  beg  you  to  grant  me  a  favor.  I  wish  to  leave 
a  kind  remembrance  of  this  eventful  hour  in  your  heart,  and  I  there- 
fore give  you  a  small  memento  of  the  same.  Will  you  accept  my 
castle  of  Rheinsberg,  with  all  its  surroundings,  as  a  present  from 
me?    Will  you  grant  me  this  pleasure,  my  brother?" 

The  king  offered  his  hand,  with  a  loving  smile,  to  Henry,  and 
received  with  apparent  pleasure  his  ardent  thanks. 

"I  chose  Rheinsberg,"  he  said,  kindly,  "not  because  it  is  my 
'  favorite  palace,  and  I  have  passed  many  pleasant  and  happy  days 
there,  but  because  none  of  my  other  palaces  are  so  appropriate  for  a 
prince  who  is  discontented  with  his  king.  I  have  made  that  expe- 
rience myself,  and  I  give  you  Rheinsberg,  as  my  father  gave  it  to 
me.  Go  to  Rheinsberg  when  you  are  angry  with  me  and  the  world  ; 
there  you  can  pass  the  first  months  of  your  marriage,  and  God  grant 
it  may  be  a  happy  one !" 

The  prince  answered  him  with  a  cold  smile,  and  begged  leave  to 
withdraw,  that  he  might  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  his 
wedding. 


5^         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY, 

"  We  will  both  make  our  preparations, "  said  the  king,  as  he  bade 
the  prince  farewell — "  you  with  your  major-domo,  and  I  \f  ith  Baron 
PdUnitz,  whom  I  shall  send  as  ambassador  to  Cassel. " 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  TRAVELLING  MTJSICLtNS. 

The  feasts,  illvuuinations,  and  balls  given  in  honor  of  the  newly- 
married  couple,  Henry  and  his  wife,  the  Princess  Wilhelmina, 
were  at  an  end.  The  prince  and  his  followers  had  withdrawn  to 
Rheinsberg,  and  many  were  the  rumors  in  Berlin  of  the  brilliant 
feasts  with  which  he  welcomed  his  beautiful  bride.  She  was  truly 
lovely,  and  the  good  Berliners,  who  had  received  her  with  such 
hearty  greetings  when  she  appeared  with  the  prince  on  the  balcony, 
or  showed  herself  to  the  people  in  an  open  carriage,  declared  there 
could  be  no  happier  couple  than  the  prince  and  his  wife  ;  they  de- 
clared that  the  large,  dark  eyes  of  the  princess  rested  upon  the  prince 
with  inexpressible  tenderness,  and  that  the  prince  always  returned 
her  glance  with  a  joyous  smile.  It  was  therefore  decided  that  the 
prince  was  a  liappy  husband,  and  the  blessings  of  the  Berliners  fol- 
lowed the  charming  princess  to  Rheinsberg,  where  tlie  yoimg  couple 
were  to  pass  their  honeymoon. 

While  the  prince  was  giving  splendid /^ies,  and  seeking  distrac- 
tion, and  hoping  to  forget  his  private  griefs,  or  perhaps  wishing 
to  deceive  the  world  as  to  his  real  feelings,  the  king  left  Sans-Souci,  to 
commence  one  of  his  customary  military  inspection  trips.  But  he  did 
not  go  to  Konigsberg,  as  was  supposed  ;  and  if  Trenck  really  had  the 
intention  of  murdering  him  during  his  sojourn  there,  it  was  ren- 
dered impossible  by  the  cnange  in  the  king's  plans.  Frederick  made 
a  tour  in  his  Rhine  provinces.  At  Cleves  he  dismissed  his  followers, 
and  they  returned  to  Berlin. 

The  king  declared  he  needed  rest,  and  wished  to  pass  a  few  days 
in  undisturbed  quiet  at  the  castle  of  Moyland. 

No  one  accompanied  Iiim  but  Colonel  Balby,  his  intimate  friend, 
and  his  cabinet-hussar,  Deesen.  The  king  was  in  an  uncommonly 
good  humor,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  After  a  short  rest 
in  his  chamber,  he  desired  to  see  Colonel  Balby. 

To  his  great  astonishment,  the  colonel  found  him  searching 
through  a  tiimk,  which  contained  a  few  articles  of  clothing  little 
calculated  to  arrest  the  attention  of  a  king. 

"  Balby, "  said  the  king,  solemnly,  but  with  a  roguish  sparkle  of 
the  eye,  **  I  wish  to  present  you  this  plain  brown  suit.    I  owe  you  a 


THE  TRAVELLING  MUSICIANS.  63 

reward  for  your  hearty  friendship  and  your  faithful  services.  This 
is  a  princely  gift.  Take  it  as  a  mark  of  my  grateful  regard.  That 
you  may  be  convinced,  Balby,  that  I  have  long  been  occupied  in 
preparing  this  surprise  for  you,  I  inform  you  that  these  rich  articles 
were  made  secretly  for  you  in  Berlin,  by  your  tailor ;  I  packed  them 
myself,  and  brought  them  here  for  you.  Accept  them,  then,  my 
friend,  and  wear  them  in  memory  of  Frederick. " 

With  a  solemn  bow,  the  king  offered  Balby  the  clothes. 

The  colonel  received  this  strange  present  with  an  astonished  and 
somewhat  confused  countenance. 

The  king  laughed  merrily.  "  What, "  he  said,  pathetically,  "  are 
you  not  contented  with  the  favor  I  have  shown  you?" 

Balby  knew  by  the  comic  manner  of  the  king  that  the  sombre 
suit  hid  a  secret,  and  he  thought  it  wise  to  allow  the  king  to  take 
his  own  time  for  explanation. 

"  Sire, "  he  said,  emphatically,  "  content  is  not  the  word  to  express 
my  rapture.  I  am  enthusiastic,  speechless  at  this  unheard-of  favor. 
I  am  flUed  with  profound  gratitude  to  your  majesty  for  having  in- 
vented a  new  costume  for  me,  whose  lovely  color  will  make  me 
appear  like  a  large  coffee-bean,  and  make  all  the  coffee  sisters  adore 
me." 

The  king  was  highly  amused.  "This  dress  certainly  has  the 
power  of  enchantment.  When  Colonel  Balby  puts  on  these  clothes 
he  will  be  invisible,  but  he  shall  not  undergo  this  transformation 
alone.  See,  here  is  another  suit,  exactly  like  yours,  and  this  is 
mine.  When  I  array  myself  in  it,  I  am  no  longer  the  king  of  Prussia, 
but  a  free,  happy  man. " 

"Ah,  you  are  speaking  of  a  disguise, "  cried  the  colonel. 

"Yes,  we  will  amuse  ourselves  by  playing  the  rdle  of  common 
men  for  a  while,  and  wander  about  unnoticed  and  undisturbed. 
Are  you  agreed,  Balby,  or  do  you  love  your  colonel's  imiform  better 
than  your  freedom?" 

"Am  I  agreed,  sire?"  cried  the  colonel;  "I  am  delighted  with 
this  genial  thought." 

"Then  take  your  dress,  friend,  and  put  it  on.  But  stay.  Did 
you  bring  your  violin  with  you,  as  I  told  you?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"Well,  then,  when  you  are  dressed,  put  your  violin  in  a  case, 
and  with  the  case  imder  your  arm,  and  a  little  money  in  your  pocket, 
go  to  the  pavilion  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  garden ;  there  I  will 
meet  you.     Now  hasten,  friend,  we  have  no  time  to  lose. " 

According  to  the  king's  orders.  Colonel  Balby  dressed  and  went 
to  the  pavilion.  He  did  ^ot  find  the  king,  but  two  strange  men 
tl^ere.    Ope  ojf  them  h^d  on  a  brp-wii  qpat,  tl^e  color  of  bis  pTfJi; 


54  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ornamented  with  large  buttons  of  mother-of  pearl ;  black  panta- 
loons, and  shoes  with  large  buckles,  set  with  dull  white  stones ;  the 
lace  on  his  sleeves  and  vest  was  very  coarse.  He  wore  a  three-cor- 
nered hat,  without  ornament ;  from  under  the  hat  fell  long,  brown, 
unpowdered  hair. 

Behind  this  stranger  there  stood  another,  in  plain,  simple 
clothes  ;  under  one  arm  he  carried  a  small  bag,  and  under  the  other 
a  case  that  contained  either  a  yard-stick  or  a  flute.  He  returned 
the  colonel's  salutation  with  a  grimace  and  a  profound  bow.  A 
short  pause  ensued,  then  the  supposed  strangers  laughed  heartily 
and  exclaimed : 

"  Do  you  not  know  us,  Balby  ?" 

Their  voices  started  the  colonel,  and  he  stepped  back. 

"  Sire,  it  is  yourself. " 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Frederick — not  the  king.  Yes,  I  am  Frederick,  and 
this  capital  servant  is  my  good  Deesen,  who  has  sworn  solemnly  not 
to  betray  our  incognito,  and  to  give  no  one  reason  to  suspect  his 
high  dignity  as  royal  cabinet- hussar.  For  love  of  us  he  will,  for  a 
few  days,  be  the  servant  of  two  simple,  untitled  musicians,  who  are 
travelling  around  the  world,  seeking  their  fortunes,  but  who,  un- 
fortunately, have  no  letters  of  recommendation. " 

"But  who  will  recommend  themselves  by  their  talents  and 
accomplishments. " 

The  king  laughed  aloud.  "Balby,  you  forget  that  you  are  a  poor 
musician,  chatting  with  your  comrade.  Truly  your  courtly  bow 
suits  your  dress  as  little  as  a  lace  veil  would  a  beggar's  attire ;  you 
must  lay  your  fine  manners  aside  for  a  short  time,  for,  with  them, 
you  would  appear  to  the  village  beauties  we  may  meet  like  a  mon- 
key, and  they  would  laugh  at  instead  of  kissing  you. " 

"  So  we  are  to  meet  country  beauties, "  said  Colonel  Balby,  no 
longer  able  to  suppress  his  curiosity.  "  Tell  me,  sire,  where  are  we 
going,  and  what  are  we  going  to  do?    I  shall  die  of  curiosity.  '• 

"Make  an  effort  to  die,"  said  the  king,  gayly ;  "you  wiU  find  it 
is  not  so  easy  to  do  as  you  imagine.  But  I  will  torture  you  no 
longer.  You  ask  what  we  are  going  to  do.  Well,  we  are  going  to 
amuse  ourselves  and  seek  adventures.  You  ask  where  we  are  going. 
Ask  that  question  of  the  sparrow  that  sits  on  the  house-top — ask 
where  it  is  going,  and  what  is  the  aim  of  its  journey.  It  will  reply, 
the  next  bush,  the  nearest  tree,  the  topmost  bough  of  a  weeping 
willow,  which  stands  on  a  lonely  grave  ;  the  mast  of  a  ship,  sailing 
on  the  wide  sea ;  or  the  branch  of  a  noble  beech,  waving  before 
the  window  of  a  beautiful  maiden.  I  am  as  incapable  of  telling 
you  the  exact  aim  and  end  of  our  journey,  friend,  as  that  little 
bird  -^ould  be.     W?  ftF?  Sfi  free  as  the  birds  of  the  air.     Com?' 


THE  TRAVELLING  MUSICIANS.  65 

come !  let  us  fly,  for  see,  the  little  sparrow  has  flown — let  us  fol- 
low it. " 

And  with  a  beaming  smile  illuminating  his  countenance,  like 
a  ray  of  the  morning  sun,  the  king  took  the  arm  of  his  friend, 
and  followed  by  his  servant  and  cabinet-hussar,  Deesen,  left  the 
pavilion. 

As  they  stood  at  the  little  gate  of  the  garden,  the  king  said  to 
Deesen : 

"  You  must  be  for  us  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword,  and  open 
the  gates  of  paradise,  but  not  to  cast  us  out. " 

Deesen  opened  the  gate,  and  our  adventurers  entered  "  the  wide, 
wide  world. " 

•'  Let  us  stand  here  a  few  moments, "  said  the  king,  as  his  glance 
rested  upon  the  gi-een  fields  spread  far  and  wide  around  him.  "  How 
great  and  beautiful  the  world  appears  to-day !  Observe  Nature's 
grand  silence,  yet  the  air  is  full  of  a  thousand  voices  ;  and  the  white 
clouds  wandering  dreamily  in  the  blue  heavens  above,  are  they  not 
the  misty  veils  with  which  the  gods  of  Olympus  conceal  their 
charms?" 

"Ah !  sire,"  said  Balby,  with  a  loving  glance  at  the  king's  hand- 
some face — "ah,  sire,  my  eyes  have  no  time  to  gaze  at  Nature's 
charms,  they  are  occupied  with  yourself.  When  I  look  upon  you, 
I  feel  that  man  is  indeed  made  in  the  image  of  God. " 

"  Were  I  a  god,  I  should  not  be  content  to  resemble  this  worn, 
faded  face.  Come,  now,  let  us  be  off !  Give  me  your  instrument, 
Deesen,  I  will  carry  it.  Now  I  look  like  a  travelling  apprentice 
seeking  his  fortune.  The  world  is  all  before  him  where  to  choose 
his  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  his  guide.  I  envy  him.  He  is  a 
free  man !" 

"Truly,  these  poor  apprentices  would  not  believe  that  a  king 
was  envying  them  their  fate, "  said  Balby,  laughing. 

"  Still  they  are  to  be  envied, "  said  the  king,  "  for  they  are  free. 
No,  no,  at  present  I  envy  no  one  ;  the  world  and  its  sunshine  belong 
to  me.  We  will  go  to  Amsterdam,  and  enjoy  the  galleries  and 
museums. " 

"  I  thank  your  majesty, "  said  Balby,  laughing,  "  you  have  saved 
my  life.  I  should  have  died  of  curiosity  if  you  had  not  spoken. 
Now,  I  feel  powerful  and  strong,  and  can  keep  pace  with  your  ma- 
jesty's wandering  steps." 

Silently  they  walked  on  until  they  reached  a  sign-post. 

"  We  are  now  on  tlie  border — let  us  bid  farewell  to  the  Prussian 
colors,  we  see  them  for  the  last  time.  Sire,  we  will  greet  them  with 
reverence. " 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  lowly  before  the  black  and  white 


56         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

colors  of  Pi'ussia,  a  greeting  that'Deesen  imitated  with  the  fervor  of 
a  patriot. 

The  king  did  not  unite  in  their  enthusiasm ;  he  was  writing  with 
his  stick  upon  the  ground. 

"  Come  here,  Balby,  and  read  this, "  he  said,  pointing  to  the  lines 
he  had  traced.     "  Can  you  read  them?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Balby,  "the  words  are,  'majesty'  and  'sire. '" 

"  So  they  are,  friend.  I  leave  these  two  words  on  the  borders  of 
Prussia ;  perhaps  on  our  return  we  may  find  and  resume  them.  But 
as  long  as  we  are  on  the  soil  of  Holland  there  must  be  no  majesty, 
no  sire. " 

"  What,  then,  must  I  call  my  king?" 

"  You  must  call  him  friend,  voild  tout. " 

"  And  I  ?"  asked  Deesen,  respectfully  ;  "  will  your  majesty  be  so 
gracious  as  to  tell  me  your  name?" 

"  I  am  Mr.  2^11er,  travelling  musician ;  and  should  any  one  ask 
you  what  I  want  in  Amsterdam,  tell  them  I  intend  giving  a  concert. 
En  avant,  mes  amis.  There  lies  the  first  small  village  of  Holland  ; 
in  an  hour  we  shall  be  there,  and  then  we  will  take  the  stage  and 
go  a  little  into  the  interior.    En  avant,  en  avant ! " 


CHAPTER    XII. 

TRAVELLING  ADVENTURES. 

The  stage  stood  before  the  tavern  at  Grave,  and  awaited  its  pas- 
sengers. The  departure  of  the  stage  was  an  important  occurrence 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  town — an  occurrence  that  disturbed 
the  monotony  of  their  lives  for  a  few  moments,  and  showed  them  at 
least  now  and  then  a  new  face,  that  gave  them  something  to  think 
of,  and  made  them  dream  of  the  far-off  city  where  the  envied  trav- 
ellers were  going. 

To-day  all  Grave  was  in  commotion  and  excitement.  The  stran- 
gers had  arrived  at  the  post-house,  and  after  partaking  of  an  excel- 
lent dinner,  engaged  three  seats  in  the  stage.  The  good  people  oi 
Grave  hoped  to  see  three  strange  faces  looking  out  of  the  stage 
window  ;  many  were  the  surmises  of  their  destiny  and  their  possi- 
ble motives  for  travelling.  They  commenced  these  investigations 
while  the  strangers  were  still  with  them. 

A  man  had  seen  them  enter  the  city,  dusty  and  exhausted,  and 
he  declared  that  the  glance  which  the  two  men  in  brown  coats  had 
cast  at  his  young  wife,  who  had  come  to  the  window  at  his  call, 
.  was  very  bold — yes,  even  suspicious ;  and  it  seemed  very  remarkable 


TRAVELLING   ADVENTURES.  57 

to  him  that  such  plain,  ordinaiy- looking  wanderei-s  should  have  a 
servant — for,  doubtless,  the  man  walking  behind  them,  caiTying  the 
very  small  carpet-bag,  was  their  servant ;  but,  truly,  he  appeared  to 
be  a  proud  person,  and  had  the  haughty  bearing  of  a  general  or  a 
field-marshal ;  he  would  not  even  return  the  friendly  greeting  of 
the  people  he  passed.  His  masters  could  not  be  distinguished  or 
rich,  for  both  of  them  carried  a  case  under  their  arms.  What  could 
be  in  those  long  cases ;  what  secret  was  hidden  there?  Perhaps  they 
held  pistols,  and  the  good  people  of  Grave  would  have  to  deal  with 
robbers  or  murderers.  The  appearance  of  the  strangers  was  wild 
and  bold  enough  to  allow  of  the  worst  suspicions. 

The  whole  town,  as  before  mentioned,  was  in  commotion,  and 
all  were  anxious  to  see  the  three  strangers,  about  whom  there  was 
certainly  something  mysterious.  They  had  the  manners  and  bear- 
ing of  noblemen,  but  were  dressed  like  common  men. 

A  crowd  of  idlera  had  assembled  before  the  post-house,  whisper- 
ing and  staring  at  the  windows  of  the  guests'  rooms.  At  last  their 
curiosity  was  about  to  be  gratified — at  last  tlie  servant  appeared  with 
the  little  carpetbag,  and  placed  it  in  the  stage,  and  returned  for  the 
two  cases,  whose  contents  they  would  so  greedily  have  known.  The 
postilion  blcM^  his  horn,  the  moment  of  departure  had  arrived. 

A  murmur  was  heard  through  the  crowd — the  strangers  appeared, 
xhey  approached  the  stage,  and  with  such  haughty  and  commanding 
glances  that  the  men  nearest  them  stepped  timidly  back. 

The  postilion  sounded  his  horn  again  ;  the  strangers  were  enter- 
ing the  stage.  At  the  door  stood  the  postmaster,  and  behind  him 
his  wife,  the  commanding  postmistress. 

"Niclas,"  she  whispered,  "I  must  and  will  know  who  these 
strangers  are.     Go  and  demand  their  passports. " 

The  obedient  Niclas  stepped  out  and  cried  in  a  thimdering 
voice  to  the  postilion,  who  was  just  about  to  start,  to  wait.  Step- 
ping to  the  stage,  he  opened  the  door. 

"Your  passports,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  roughly.  "You  forgot  to 
show  me  your  passports. " 

The  curious  observers  breathed  more  freely,  and  nodded  encour- 
agingly to  the  daring  postmaster. 

"  You  rejoice, "  murmured  his  wife,  who  was  still  standing  in 
the  door,  from  whence  she  saw  all  that  passed,  and  seemed  to  divine 
the  thoughts  of  her  gaping  friends — "you  rejoice,  but  you  shall 
know  nothing.     I  shall  not  satisfy  your  curiosity. " 

Mr.  Niclas  still  stood  at  the  door  of  the  stage.  His  demand  had 
not  been  attended  to  ;  he  repeated  it  for  the  third  time. 

•' Is  it  customary  hereto  demand  passports  of  travellers?"  asked 
b  commanding  voice  from  the  stage. 
5 


58         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  We  can  demand  them  if  we  wish  to  do  so. " 
"And  why  do  you  wish  it  now?"  said  the  same  voice. 
"I  wish  it  simply  because  I  wish  it,"  was  the  reply. 
A  stem  face  now  appeared  at  the  door,  looking  angrily  at  the 
postmaster. 

"  Think  what  you  say,  sir,  and  be  respectful. " 
"Silence!"  interrupted  the  one  who  had  first  spoken.     "Do  not 
let  us  make  an  unnecessary  disturbance,  mon  ami.     Why  do  you 
wish  to  see  our  passports,  sir?" 

"Why?"  asked  Niclas,  who  was  proud  to  play  so  distinguished  a 
part  before  his  comrades — "you  wish  to  know  why  I  desire  to  see 
yourpaaports?  Well,  then,  because  you  appear  to  me  to  be  suspi- 
cious characters. " 

A  gay  laugh  was  heard  from  the  stage.    "  Why  do  you  suspect  us  ?" 
"  Because  I  never  trust  people  travelling  without  baggage, "  was 
the  laconic  reply. 

"  Bravo !  well  answered, "  cried  the  crowd,  and  even  Madame 
Niclas  was  surprised  to  see  her  husband  show  such  daring  courage. 

"  We  need  no  baggage.  We  are  travelling  musicians,  going  to 
Amsterdam." 

"  Travelling  musicians  1  All  the  more  reason  for  mistrusting 
you ;  no  good  was  ever  heard  of  wandering  musicians. " 

"You  are  becoming  impertinent,  sir,"  and  Balby,  the  tallest  and 
yoimgest  of  the  two  friends,  sprang  from  the  stage,  while  the  ser- 
vant swung  himself  from  the  box,  where  he  was  sitting  with  the 
postilion,  and  with  an  enraged  countenance  placed  himself  beside 
his  master. 

"  If  you  dare  to  speak  another  insulting  word,  you  are  lost, "  cried 
Balby. 

A  liand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  voice  murmiu-ed  in  his 
ear: 

"  Do  not  compromise  us. " 

The  king  now  also  left  the  stage,  and  tried  to  subdue  the  anger 
of  his  companion. 

"  Pardon,  sir,  the  violence  of  my  friend, "  said  the  king,  with  an 
ironical  smile,  as  he  bowed  to  the  postmaster.  "  We  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  being  questioned  and  suspected  in  this  manner,  and  I  can 
assure  you  that,  although  we  are  travelling  musicians,  as  it  pleased 
you  to  say,  we  are  honest  people,  and  have  played  before  kings  and 
queens. " 

"If  you  are  honest,  show  me  your  passports;  no  honest  man 
travels  without  one  I" 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  no  rascal  should  travel  without  one, "  said 
the  king. 


TRAVELLING  ADVENTURES.  59 

"  I  cannot  tell  who  is  a  rascal ;  you  may  be  one  for  aught  I  know. " 

Balby  uttered  an  angry  exclamation  and  stepped  nearer  to  the 
daring  postmaster,  while  his  servant  shook  his  fist  threateningly  at 
Niclas. 

The  king  dispelled  their  anger  with  a  single  glance. 

"  Sir, "  he  said  to  Niclas,  "  God  made  my  face,  and  it  is  not  my 
fault  if  it  does  not  please  you ;  but  concerning  our  passports,  they 
are  lying  well  preserved  in  my  carpet-bag.  I  should  think  that 
would  suffice  you. " 

"  No,  that  does  not  suffice  me, "  screamed  Niclas  ;  "  show  me  your 
passxK)rts  if  I  am  to  believe  that  you  are  not  vagabonds. " 

"You  dare  to  call  us  vagabonds?"  cried  the  king,  whose  patience 
now  also  appeared  exhausted,  and  whose  clear  brow  was  slightly 
clouded. 

"  The  police  consider  every  one  criminal  until  he  has  proved  he 
is  not  so, "  said  Niclas,  emphatically. 

The  king's  anger  was  already  subdued. 

"  In  the  eyes  of  the  police,  criminality  is  then  the  normal  condi- 
tion of  mankind, "  he  said,  smilingly. 

"  Sir,  you  have  no  right  to  question  the  police  so  pointedly, "  said 
Niclas,  sternly.     "  You  are  here  to  be  questioned,  and  not  to  question. " 

The  king  laughingly  arrested  the  uplifted  arm  of  his  companion. 

"  Mon  Dieu, "  he  murmured,  "  do  you  not  see  that  this  is  amusing 
me  highly?    Ask,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  answer." 

"  Have  you  a  pass?" 

«Yes,  sir." 

•*  Then  give  it  to  me  to  visi. " 

"  To  do  so,  I  should  have  to  open  my  bag,  and  that  would  be  very 
inconvenient ;  but,  if  the  law  absolutely  demands  it,  I  wiU  do  it. " 

"  The  law  demands  it. " 

The  king  motioned  to  his  servant,  and  ordered  him  to  carry  the 
bag  into  the  house. 

"Why  this  delay — why  this  unnecessary  loss  of  time?"  asked 
Niclas.  "  The  postilion  can  wait  no  longer.  If  he  arrives  too  late 
at  the  next  station,  he  will  be  fined. " 

"I  will  not  wait  another  minute,"  cried  the  postilion,  determi- 
nately  ;  "  get  in,  or  I  shall  start  without  you. " 

"  Show  me  your  passports,  and  then  get  in, "  cried  Niclas. 

The  strangers  api)eared  confused  and  undecided.  Niclas  looked 
triumphantly  at  his  immense  crowd  of  listeners,  who  were  gazing 
at  him  with  amazement,  awaiting  in  breathless  stillness  the  unrav- 
elling of  this  scene. 

"  Get  in,  or  I  shall  start, "  repeated  the  postilion. 

"Give  me  your  passports,  or  I  will  not  let  you  go!"  screamed 


60         FREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AM)  HIS  FAmLY. 

Niclas ,  and  taking  the  two  mysterious  cases  from  the  stage,  he 
placed  them  before  the  strangers. 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  house, "  whispered  the  king  to  his  friends ; 
"  we  must  make  botine  mine  a.  viauvaisjeu ; "  and  he  approached  the 
door  of  the  house — there  stood  the  wife  of  the  postmaster,  with 
sparkling  eyes  and  a  malicious  gi"in. 

"The  postilion  is  going,  and  you  will  lose  your  money,"  she 
said  ;  "  they  never  return  money  when  once  they  have  it. " 

"  Ah  !  I  thought  that  was  only  a  habit  of  the  church, "  said  the 
king,  laughing ;  "  nevertheless,  the  postmaster  can  keep  what  he 
has.  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  show  me  a  room,  where  I  can 
open  my  bag  at  leisure,  and  send  some  coffee  and  good  wine  to  us?" 

There  was  something  so  commanding  in  the  king's  voice,  so  im- 
posing in  his  whole  appearance,  that  even  the  all-conquering  Madame 
Mclas  felt  awed,  and  she  silently  stepped  forward  and  showed  him 
her  best  room.  The  servant  followed  with  the  two  cases  and  the 
bag,  and  laid  them  upon  the  table,  then  placed  himself  at  the  door. 

"  Now,  madame,  leave  us, "  ordered  the  king,  "  and  do  as  I  told 
you. " 

Madame  Niclas  left,  and  the  gentlemen  were  once  more  alone. 

"Now,  what  shall  we  do?"  said  the  king,  smilingly.  "I  believe 
there  is  danger  of  our  wonderful  trip  falling  through. " 

"  It  is  only  necessary  for  your  majesty  to  make  yourself  known  to 
the  postmaster, "  said  Colonel  Balby. 

"And  if  he  will  not  believe  me,  this  fripon  who  declares  that  no 
one  could  tell  by  my  appearance  whether  I  was  a  rascal  or  not,  this 
dull-eyed  simpleton,  who  will  not  see  the  royal  mark  upon  my  brow, 
which  my  courtiers  see  so  plainly  written  there?  No,  no,  my 
friend,  that  is  not  the  way.  We  have  undertaken  to  travel  as 
ordinary  men — we  must  now  see  how  common  men  get  through  the 
world.  It  is  necessary  to  show  the  police  that  we  are  at  least  honest 
men.  Happily,  I  believe  I  have  the  means  to  do  so  at  hand.  Open 
our  ominous  bag,  friend  Balby  ;  I  think  you  will  discover  my  port- 
folio, and  in  it  a  few  blank  passes,  and  my  state  seal. " 

Colonel  Balby  did  as  the  king  ordered,  and  drew  from  the  bag 
the  portfolio,  with  its  precious  contents. 

The  king  bade  Balby  sit  down  and  fill  up  the  blanks  at  his  dicta- 
tion. 

The  pass  was  drawn  up  for  the  two  brothers,  Frederick  and  Henry 
ZoUer,  accompanied  by  their  servant,  with  the  intention  of  travel- 
ling through  Holland. 

The  king  placed  his  signature  under  this  important  document. 

"  Now,  it  is  only  necessary  to  put  the  state  seal  under  it,  and  we 
shall  be  free  ;  but  how  will  we  get  a  light?" 


TRAVELLING  ADVENT  JRES.  61 

"I  will  obtain  one  immediately,"  said  Balby,  hastening  to  the 
door. 

The  king  held  him  back.  "My  brother,  you  are  very  innocent 
and  thoughtless.  You  forget  entirely  that  we  are  suspected  crimi- 
nals. Should  we  demand  a  light,  and  immediately  appear  with  our 
passes,  do  you  not  believe  that  this  dragon  of  a  postmaster  would 
immediately  think  that  we  had  written  them  ourselves,  and  put  a 
forged  seal  under  them  ?" 

"How,  then,  are  we  to  get  a  light?"  said  Balby,  confused. 

The  king  thought  a  moment,  then  laughed  gayly. 

"  I  have  found  a  way, "  he  said ;  "  go  down  into  the  dining-room, 
where  I  noticed  an  eternal  lamp  burning,  not  to  do  honor  to  the 
Mother  of  God,  but  to  smokers  ;  light  your  cigar  and  bring  it  here. 
I  will  light  the  sealing-wax  by  it,  and  we  will  have  the  advantage 
of  drowning  the  smell  of  the  wax  with  the  smoke. " 

Balby  flew  away,  and  soon  returned  with  the  burning  cigar ;  the 
king  lit  the  sealing-wax,  and  put  the  seal  under  the  passport. 

"  Tliis  will  proclaim  us  free  from  all  crime.  Now,  brother  Henry, 
call  the  worthy  postmaster. " 

When  Niclas  received  the  passport  from  tlie  king's  hand  his 
countenance  cleared,  and  he.made  the  two  gentlemen  a  gi-aceful 
bow,  and  begged  them  to  excuse  the  severity  that  his  duty  made 
necessary. 

"  We  have  now  entirely  convinced  you  that  we  are  honest  people, " 
said  the  king,  smiling,  "and  you  will  forgive  us  that  we  have  so 
little  baggage. " 

"Well,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Niclas,  confusedly,  "musicians 
are  seldom  rich,  but  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  must  thank  God 
if  their  clothes  are  good  and  clean.  Yours  are  entirely  new,  and 
you  need  no  baggage. " 

The  king  laughed  merrily.     "  Can  we  now  go?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  but  how,  sir?  You  doubtlessly  heard  that  the  postilion 
left  as  soon  as  you  entered  the  house. " 

"  Consequently  we  are  without  a  conveyance ;  we  have  paid  for  our 
places  for  nothing,  and  must  remain  in  this  miserable  place, "  said 
the  king,  impatiently. 

Niclas  reddened  with  anger.  "  Sir,  what  right  have  you  to  call 
the  town  of  Grave  a  miserable  place?  Believe  me,  it  would  be  vezy 
difficult  for  you  to  become  a  citizen  of  this  miserable  place,  for  you 
must  prove  that  you  have  means  enough  to  live  in  a  decent  manner, 
and  it  appears  to  me — " 

"That  we  do  not  possess  them,  "said  the  king;  "vraimenf,  you 
are  right,  our  means  are  very  insufficient,  and  as  the  inliabitants  of 
Grave  will  not  grant  us  the  rights  of  citizens,  it  is  better  for  us  to 


62         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

leave  immediately.  Have,  therefore,  the  goodness  to  furnish  us 
with  the  means  of  doing  so. " 

"  There  are  two  ways,  an  expensive  and  a  cheap  one, "  said  Niclas, 
proudly  :  "extra  post,  or  the  drag- boat.  The  first  is  for  respectable 
people,  the  second  for  those  who  have  nothing,  and  are  nothing. " 

*•  Then  the  last  is  for  us, "  said  the  king,  laughing.  "  Is  it  not  so, 
brother  Henry  ?— it  is  best  for  us  to  go  in  the  drag-boat. " 

"  That  would  be  best,  brother  Frederick. " 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  call  our  servant  to  take  the  bag,  and  you, 
Mr.  Niclas,  please  give  us  a  guide  to  show  us  to  the  canal. " 

The  king  took  his  box  and  approached  the  door. 

"  And  my  coffee,  and  the  wine, "  asked  Mrs.  Niclas,  just  entering 
with  the  drinks. 

"  We  have  no  time  to  make  use  of  them,  madame, "  said  the  king, 
as  he  passed  her,  to  leave  the  room. 

But  Madame  Niclas  held  him  back. 

"  No  time  to  make  use  of  them, "  she  cried  ;  "  but  I  had  to  take 
time  to  make  the  coffee,  and  bring  the  wine  from  the  cellar. " 

"  Mais,  mon  Dieu,  madame, "  said  the  impatient  king. 

"Mais,  mon  Dieu,  monsieur,  voxis  croyez  gueje  travaillerai  pour 
le  roi  de  Prusse,  c'est-d-dire  sans  paiement. " 

The  king  broke  out  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  Balby  had  to  join 
him,  but  much  against  his  will. 

"Brother  Henry,"  said  the  king,  laughing,  "that  is  a  curious 
way  of  speaking  ;  '  travailler  pour  le  roi  de  Prusse, '  means  here  to 
work  for  nothing.  I  beg  you  to  convince  this  good  woman  that  she 
has  not  worked  for  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  pay  her  well.  Madame, 
I  have  the  honor  to  bid  you  farewell,  and  be  assured  it  will  always 
cheer  me  to  think  of  you,  and  to  recall  your  charming  speech. " 

The  king  laughingly  took  his  friend's  arm,  and  nodded  kindly 
to  Madame  Niclas  as  he  went  down  the  steps. 

"  I  tell  you  what, "  said  Madame  Niclas,  as  she  stood  at  the  door 
with  her  husband,  watching  the  departing  strangers,  who,  in  com- 
pany with  the  guide  and  their  servant,  were  walking  down  the 
street  that  led  to  the  canal — *'  I  tell  you  I  do  not  trust  those  strangers, 
the  little  one  in  particular ;  he  had  a  very  suspicious  look." 

"  But  his  passport  was  all  right. " 

"But,  nevertheless,  all  is  not  right  with  them.  These  strangers 
are  disguised  princes  or  robbers,  I  am  fvilly  convinced. " 


THE  DRAG-BOAT.  63 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  DRAG-BOAT. 

What  a  crowd,  what  noise,  what  laughing  and  chatting !  How 
bright  and  happy  these  people  are  who  have  nothing  and  are  noth- 
ing !  How  gayiy  they  laugh  and  talk  together — with  what  stoical 
equanimity  they  regard  the  slow  motion  of  the  boat !  they  accept  it 
as  an  unalterable  necessity.  How  kindly  they  assist  each  other ; 
with  what  natural  politeness  the  men  leave  the  best  seats  for  the 
women ! 

The  boat  is  very  much  crowded.  There  are  a  great  number  of 
those  amiable  people  who  are  nothing,  and  have  nothing,  moving 
from  place  to  place  cheerily. 

The  men  on  the  shore  who,  with  the  aid  of  ropes,  are  pulling  the 
boat,  those  two- legged  horses,  groan  from  exertion.  The  bagpipe 
player  is  making  his  gayest  music,  but  in  vain — he  catmot  allure 
the  young  people  to  dance ;  there  is  no  place  for  dancing,  the  large 
deck  of  the  boat  is  covered  with  human  beings.  Old  men,  and  even 
women,  are  obliged  to  stand ;  the  two  long  benches  ruiming  down 
both  sides  of  the  boat  are  filled. 

The  king  enjoyed  the  scene  immensely.  The  free  life  about  him, 
the  entire  indifference  to  his  own  person,  charmed  and  delighted 
him.  He  leaned  against  the  cabin,  by  which  he  was  sittiog,  and 
regarded  the  crowd  before  him.  Suddenly  he  was  touched  on  the 
shoulder,  and  not  in  the  gentlest  manner.  Looking  up,  he  met  the 
discontented  face  of  a  peasant,  who  was  speaking  violently,  but  in 
Dutch,  and  the  king  did  not  understand  him  ;  he  therefore  slightly 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  remained  quiet. 

The  angry  peasant  continued  to  gesticulate,  and  pointed  excit- 
edly at  the  king,  and  then  at  a  pale  young  woman  who  was  standing 
before  him,  and  held  two  children  in  her  arms. 

The  king  still  shi-ugged  his  shoulders  silently,  but  when  the 
peasant  grasped  him  for  the  second  time  he  waved  him  off,  and  his 
eye  was  so  stern  that  the  terrified  and  astonished  peasant  stepped 
back  involuntarily. 

At  this  moment  a  displeased  murmur  was  heard  among  the 
crowd,  and  a  number  arranged  themselves  by  the  side  of  the  peas- 
ant, who  approached  the  king  with  a  determined  countenance. 

The  king  remained  sitting,  and  looked  surprised  at  the  threat- 
ening countenances  of  the  people,  whose  angry  words  he  tried  in 
vain  to  comprehend. 

Jlj?  gtiU  incre?ising  crowd  w?i9  suddenly^  separated  by  two  strong 


64  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

arms,  and  Balby,  who  had  been  sitting  at  the  other  end  of  the  boat, 
now  approaclied  tlie  king,  accompanied  by  a  friend,  and  placed 
himself  at  the  king's  side. 

"Tell  me  what  these  men  want,  mon  ami/'  said  Frederick,  has- 
tily ;  "I  do  not  understand  Dutch." 

"I  understand  it,  sir,''  said  the  friend  who  accompanied  Balby, 
"these  people  are  reproaching  you." 

"Reproaching  me  !    And  why?" 

The  stranger  turned  to  the  peasant  who  had  first  spoken,  and  who 
now  began  to  make  himself  heard  again  in  loud  and  angry  tones. 

"  Monsieur, "  said  the  stranger,  "  these  good  people  are  angry  with 
you,  and,  it  appears  to  me,  not  entirely  without  cause.  There  ta  a 
language  that  is  understood  without  woi'ds,  its  vocabulary  is  in  the 
heart.  Here  stands  a  poor,  sick  woman,  with  her  twins  in  her 
arms.  You,  monsieur,  are  the  only  man  seated.  These  good  people 
think  it  would  be  but  proper  for  you  to  resign  your  seat. " 

"This  is  unheard-of  insolence,"  exclaimed  Balby,  placing  him- 
self determinedly  before  the  king  ;  "let  any  one  dare  advance  a  step 
farther,  and  I — " 

"Quiet,  cher  frere,  the  people  are  right,  ajid  I  am  ashamed  of 
myself  that  I  did  not  understand  them  at  once. " 

He  rose  and  passed  through  the  crowd  with  a  calm,  kindly  face, 
and,  not  appearing  to  notice  them,  approached  the  young  woman, 
who  was  kneeling,  exhausted,  on  the  floor.  With  a  kind,  sympa- 
thetic smile,  he  raised  her  and  led  her  to  his  seat.  There  was  some- 
thing so  noble  and  winning  in  his  manner,  that  those  who  were  so 
shortly  before  indignant,  were  unconsciously  touched.  A  murmur 
of  approval  was  heard  ;  the  rough  faces  beamed  with  friendly  smiles. 

The  king  did  not  observe  this,  he  was  still  occupied  with  the 
poor  woman,  and,  while  appearing  to  play  with  the  children,  gave 
each  of  them  a  gold  piece.  But  their  little  hands  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  carry  such  treasures,  and  could  not  hold  them  securely. 
The  two  gold  pieces  roUed  to  the  ground,  and  the  ringing  noise 
announced  the  rich  gift  of  Frederick.  Loud  cries  of  delight  wex-e 
heard,  and  the  men  waved  their  hats  in  the  air.  The  king  reddened, 
snd  looked  down  in  confusion. 

The  peasant,  who  had  fii*st  been  so  violent  towai'd  the  king,  and 
at  whose  feet  the  money  had  fallen,  picked  it  up  and  gave  it  to  the 
childx'en ;  then,  with  a  loud  laugh,  he  offered  his  big,  rough  hand 
to  the  king,  and  said  something  in  a  kindly  tone. 

"The  good  man  is  thanking  you,  sir,  "said  the  sti-anger.  "He 
thinks  you  a  clever,  good-hearted  fellow,  and  begs  you  to  excuse  his 
uncalled-for  violence. " 

The  king  answered  with  a  silent  bow.    IJe  whp  wa§  jicoustoffje^ 


THE  DRAG-BOAT.  65 

to  receive  the  world's  approval  as  his  just  tribute,  was  confused  and 
ashamed  at  the  applause  of  these  poor  people. 

The  king  was  right  in  saying  he  left  his  royalty  on  Prussian  soil ; 
he  really  was  embarrassed  at  this  publicity,  and  was  glad  when 
Deesen  announced  that  lunch  was  prepared  for  him.  He  gave  Balby 
a  nod  to  follow,  and  withdrew  into  the  cabin. 

"  Truly,  if  every-day  life  had  so  many  adventures,  I  do  not  un- 
derstand how  any  one  can  complain  of  ennui.  Through  what  varied 
scenes  I  have  passed  to-day  !" 

"  But  our  adventures  arise  from  the  peculiarity  of  our  situation, " 
said  Balby.  "All  these  little  contretemps  are  annoying  and  disa- 
greeable ;  but  seem  only  ajnusing  to  a  king  in  disguise. " 

"But  a  disguised  king  learns  many  things,"  said  Frederick, 
smiling;  "from  to-day,  I  shall  be  no  longer  surprised  to  hear  the 
police  called  a  hateful  institution.  Vraiment,  its  authority  and 
power  is  vexatious,  but  necessary.  Never  speak  again  of  my  god-li^e 
countenance,  or  the  seal  of  greatness  which  the  Creator  has  put  upon 
the  brow  of  princes  to  distinguish  them  from  the  rest  of  mankind. 
Mons.  Niclas  saw  nothing  great  stamped  upon  my  brow  ;  to  him  I 
had  the  face  of  a  criminal — my  passport  only  made  an  honest  man 
of  me.     Come,  friends,  let  us  refresh  ourselves. " 

While  eating,  the  king  chatted  pleasantly  with  Balby  of  the 
charming  adventures  of  the  day. 

"  Truly, "  he  said,  laughing,  as  the  details  of  the  scene  on  deck 
were  discussed,  "without  the  interference  of  that  learned  Dutch- 
man, the  King  of  Prussia  would  have  been  in  dangerous  and  close 
contact  with  the  respectable  peasant.  Ah,  I  did  not  even  thank  my 
protecting  angel.  Did  you  speak  to  him,  brother  Henry  ?  Where 
is  he  from,  and  what  is  his  name?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  but  from  his  speech  and  manner  he  appeared 
to  me  to  be  an  amiable  and  cultivated  gentleman. " 

"  Go  and  invite  him  to  take  a  piece  of  pie  with  us.  Tell  him  Mr. 
ZoVer  wishes  to  thank  him  for  his  assistance,  and  begs  the  honor  of 
his  acquaintance.  You  see,  my  friend,  I  am  learning  how  to  be 
polite,  to  flatter,  and  conciliate,  as  becomes  a  poor  travelling  musi- 
cian. I  beg  you,  choose  your  words  well.  Be  civil,  or  he  might 
refuse  to  come,  and  I  thirst  for  company. " 

Balby  returned  in  a  few  moments,  with  the  stranger. 

"Here,  my  friend,"  said  Balby,  "I  bring  you  our  deliverer  in 
time  of  need.     He  will  gladly  take  his  share  of  the  pie. " 

"And  he  richly  deserves  it,"  said  the  king,  as  he  greeted  the 
stranger  politely.  "  Truly,  monsieur,  I  am  very  much  indebted  to 
you,  and  this  piece  of  pie  that  I  have  the  honor  to  oflfer  you  is  but 
a  poor  reward  fpr  yow:  seirvices.    I  believe  I  nev^r  sfiw  larger 


66  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

than  that  terrible  peasant's  ;  a  closer  acquaintance  with  them  would 
have  been  very  disagreeable.     I  thank  you  for  preventing  it. " 

"  Travellers  make  a  variety  of  acquaintances, "  said  the  stranger, 
laughing,  and  seating  himself  on  the  bench  by  the  king's  side,  with 
a  familiarity  that  terrified  Balby.  "I  count  you,  sir,  among  the 
agreeable  ones,  and  I  thank  you  for  this  privilege. " 

"  I  hope  you  will  make  the  acquaintance  of  this  pie,  and  find  it 
agreeable, "  said  the  king.  "  Eat,  monsieur,  and  let  us  chat  in  the 
mean  while — Henry,  why  are  you  standing  there  so  grave  and  re- 
spectful, not  daring  to  be  seated?  I  do  not  believe  this  gentleman 
to  be  a  prince  travelling  incognito. " 

"No,  sir,  take  your  place,"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  laughing, 
"you  will  not  offend  etiquette.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  am  no 
concealed  prince,  and  no  worshipper  of  princes.  I  am  proud  to 
declare  this. " 

"  Ah  I  you  are  proud  not  to  be  a  prince?" 

"Certainly,  sir." 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  Balby,  looking  at  the  king,  "that  a 
prince  has  a  great  and  enviable  position. " 

"  But  a  position,  unfortunately,  that  but  few  princes  know  how  to 
fill  worthily,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "Every  man  who  is  suflS- 
cient  for  himself  is  to  be  envied. " 

"  You  speak  my  thoughts  exactly,  sir, "  said  the  stranger,  who 
had  commenced  eating  his  piece  of  pie  with  great  zeal.  "  Only  the 
free  are  happy. 

"Are  you  happy?"  asked  the  king. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  at  least  for  the  moment  I  am. " 

"What  countryman  are  you?" 

"  I  am  a  Swiss,  sir. " 

"  A  worthy  and  respectable  people.  From  what  part  of  Switzer- 
land do  you  come?" 

"  From  the  little  town  of  Morges. " 

"  Not  far,  then,  from  Lausanne,  and  the  lovely  lake  of  Geneva ; 
not  far  from  Femey,  where  the  great  Voltaire  resides,  and  from 
whence  he  darts  his  scorching,  lightning- flashes  to-day  upon  those 
whom  he  blessed  yesterday.  Are  you  satisfied  with  your  govern- 
ment? Are  not  your  patrician  families  a  little  too  proud?  Are  not 
even  the  citizens  of  Berne  arrogant  and  imperious?" 

"We  have  to  complain  of  them,  sir,  but  very  rarely." 

"Are  you  now  residing  in  Holland?" 

"  No,  I  am  travelling, "  answered  the  stranger,  shortly.  He  had 
held  for  a  long  time  a  piece  of  pie  on  his  fork,  trying  in  vain  to  put 
it  in  his  mouth. 

T}i9  king  had  not  observed  this ;  he  h?^d  forgotten  that  kings  and 


THE  t)RAG-BOAT.  67 

princes  only  have  the  right  to  carry  on  a  conversation  wholly  with 
questions,  and  that  it  did  not  become  Mr.  2^11er  to  be  so  inquis- 
itive. 

"What  brought  you  here?"  he  asked,  hastily. 

"  To  complete  my  studies,  sir, "  and,  with  a  clouded  brow,  the 
stranger  laid  his  fork  and  pie  upon  his  plate. 

But  the  king's  questions  flowed  on  in  a  continued  stream. 

"Do  you  propose  to  remain  here?" 

"I  believe  not,  or  rather  I  do  not  yet  know,"  answered  the 
stranger,  witli  a  sarcastic  smile,  that  brought  Balby  to  despera- 
tion. 

"  Are  not  the  various  forms  of  government  of  Switzerland  some- 
what confusing  in  a  political  point  of  view?" 

"  No,  for  all  know  that  the  cantons  are  free,  as  they  should  be. " 

"Does  that  not  lead  to  skepticism  and  indifference?" 

The  stranger's  patience  was  exhausted ;  without  answering  the 
king,  he  pushed  back  his  plate  and  arose  from  the  table. 

"  Sir,  allow  me  to  say  that,  in  consideration  of  a  piece  of  pie, 
which  you  will  not  even  give  me  time  to  eat,  you  ask  too  many 
questions. " 

"  You  are  right,  and  I  beg  your  pardon, "  said  the  king,  as  he 
smilingly  nodded  at  Balby  to  remain  quiet.  "  We  travel  to  improve 
ourselves,  but  you  have  just  cause  of  complaint.  I  will  give  you 
time  to  eat  your  piece  of  pie.  Eat,  therefore,  monsieur,  and  when 
you  have  finished,  if  it  is  agreeable,  we  will  chat  awhile  longer." 

When  tlie  stranger  arose  to  depart,  after  an  animated  and  inter- 
esting conversation,  the  king  off"ered  him  his  hand. 

**  Give  me  your  address, "  he  said,  "  that  is,  I  beg  of  you  to  do  so. 
You  say  you  have  not  yet  chosen  a  profession  ;  perhaps  I  may  have 
the  opportunity  of  being  useful  to  you. " 

The  Swiss  gave  him  his  card,  with  many  thanks,  and  returned 
to  the  deck. 

The  king  gazed  tlioughtfully  after  him. 
I       "That  man  pleases  me,  and  when  I  am  no  longer  a  poor  musician, 
I  shall  call  him  to  my  side. — Well,  brother  Henry,  what  do  you 
think  of  this  man,  who,  as  I  see,  is  named  Mr.  Le  Catt?" 

"  I  find  him  rather  curt, "  said  Balby,  "  and  he  appears  to  be  a 
great  republican." 

"  You  mean  because  he  hates  princes,  and  was  somewhat  rude  to 
me.  Concerning  tlie  first,  you  must  excuse  it  in  a  republican,  and 
I  confess  that  were  I  in  his  place  I  would  probabl}'  do  the  same 
as  to  the  last,  he  was  right  to  give  Mr.  Zoller  a  lesson  in  manners. 
Poor  Zoller  is  not  j'et  acquainted  witli  t\\e  cu.stoms  of  the  com- 
mon world,  and  makes  all  manner  of  mistakes  against  Von  ton     I 


68         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

believe  to-day  is  not  the  first  time  he  has  been  reproved  for  want  of 
manners. " 

"  Mr.  ZoUer  is  every  inch  a  king, "  said  Balby,  laughing. 

[Note.— The  king's  conversation  with  Mr.  Le  Catt  is  historical  (see  Thi6bault,  vol. 
i.,  p.  818).  The  king  did  not  forget  his  travelling  adventure,  but  on  his  return  to 
Prussia,  called  Le  Catt  to  court  and  gave  him  the  position  of  lecturer,  and  for  twenty 
years  he  enjoyed  the  favor  and  confidence  of  the  king.] 


CHAPTER    XIV 

IN  AMSTERDAM. 

Wearied,  indeed  utterly  exhausted,  the  king  and  Balby  returned 
to  the  hotel  of  the  Black  Raven,  at  that  time  the  most  celebrated  in 
Amsterdam.  They  had  been  wandering  about  the  entire  day,  ex- 
amining with  never-ceasing  interest  and  delight  the  treasures  of  art 
which  the  rich  patricians  of  Amsterdam  had  collected  in  their 
princely  homes  and  the  public  museums.  No  one  supposed  that  this 
small  man  in  the  brown  coat,  with  dusty  shoes  and  coai-se,  unadorned 
hat,  could  be  a  king— a  king  whose  fame  resounded  throughout  the 
whole  of  Europe.  Frederick  had  enjoyed  the  great  happiness  of 
pursuing  his  journey  and  his  studies  unnoticed  and  unknown.  He 
had  many  amusing  and  romantic  adventures ;  and  the  joy  of  being 
an  independent  man,  of  which  he  had  heretofore  only  dreamed,  he 
was  now  realizing  fully. 

Tlie  king  was  compelled  now  to  confess  that  his  fi-eedom  and 
manhood  were  completely  overcome.  Hunger  had  conquered  him 
—hunger !  the  earthly  enemy  of  all  great  ideas  and  exalted  feelings. 
The  king  was  hungry  I  He  was  obliged  to  yield  to  that  physical 
power  which  even  the  rulers  of  this  world  must  obey,  and  Balby  and 
himself  had  returned  to  the  hotel  to  eat  and  refresh  themselves. 

"Now,  friend,  see  that  you  order  something  to  rejoice  and 
strengthen  our  humanity, "  said  Frederick,  stretching  himself  com- 
fortably upon  the  divan.  "  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  be  hungry 
and  partake  of  a  good  meal — a  pleasure  which  the  King  of  Prussia 
will  often  envy  the  Messieurs  Zoller.  To  be  hungry  and  to  eat  is 
one  of  life's  rare  enjoyments  generally  denied  to  kings,  and  yet," 
whispered  he,  thoughtfully,  "our  whole  life  is  nothing  but  a  never- 
ceasing  hungering  and  thirsting  after  happiness,  content,  and  rest. 
The  world  alas!  gives  no  repose,  no  satisfying  portion.  Brother 
Heniy,  let  us  eat  and  be  joyful ;  let  us  even  meditate  on  a  good  meal 
as  an  ardent  maiden  consecrates  her  thoughts  to  a  love  poem  which 
she  will  write  in  her  album  in  honor  of  her  beloved.      Truly  there 


IN  AMSTERDAM.  69 

are  foofe  who  in  the  sublimity  of  their  folly  wish  to  appear  indiflfer- 
ent  to  such  earthly  pleasures,  declaring  that  they  are  necessary  evils, 
most  uncomfortable  bodily  craving,  and  nothing  more.  They  are 
fools  who  do  not  understand  that  eating  and  drinking  is  an  art,  a 
science,  the  soul  of  the  soul,  the  compass  of  thought  and  feeling. 
Dear  Balby,  order  us  a  costly  meal.  I  wish  to  be  gay  and  free, 
light-minded  and  meriy-hearted  to-day.  In  order  to  promote  this 
we  must,  before  all  other  things,  take  care  of  these  earthly  bodies 
and  not  oppress  them  with  common  food. " 

"  We  will  give  them,  I  hope,  the  sublimest  nourishment  which 
the  soil  of  Holland  produces, "  said  Balby,  laughing.  "  You  are  not 
aware,  M.  Frederick  ZoUer,  that  we  are  now  in  a  hotel  whose  hostess 
is  worshipped,  almost  glorified,  by  the  good  Hollanders. " 

"And  is  it  this  sublime  piece  of  flesh  which  you  propose  to  place 
before  me?"  said  the  king,  with  assumed  horror.  "  Will  you  satisfy 
the  soul  of  my  soul  with  this  Holland  beauty  ?  I  do  not  share  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Hollanders.  I  shall  not  worship  this  woman.  I 
shall  find  her  coarse,  old,  and  ugly. " 

"  But  listen,  ZoUer.  These  good  Dutchmen  worship  her  not  be- 
cause of  her  perishable  beauty,  but  because  of  a  famous  pie  which 
she  alone  in  Amsterdam  knows  how  to  make. " 

"  Ah,  that  is  better.  I  begin  now  to  appreciate  the  Dutchmen, 
and  if  the  pie  is  good,  I  will  worship  at  the  same  shrine.  Did  you 
not  remark,  brother  Henry,  that  while  you  stood  carried  away  by 
your  enthusiasm  before  Rembrandt's  picture  of  the 'Night  Watch' 
— a  picture  which  it  grieves  me  to  say  I  cannot  obtain, "  sighed  the 
king — "  these  proud  Hollanders  call  it  one  of  their  national  treasures, 
and  will  not  sell  it — weU,  did  you  not  see  that  I  was  conversing 
zealously  with  three  or  four  of  those  thick,  rubicund,  comfortable- 
looking  mynheers?  No  doubt  you  thought  we  were  rapturously  dis- 
cussing the  glorious  paintings  before  which  we  stood,  and  for  this 
the  good  Hollanders  were  rolling  their  eyes  in  ecstasy.  No,  sir ;  no, 
sir.  We  spoke  of  a  pie !  They  recognized  me  as  a  stranger,  asked 
me  from  whence  I  came,  where  we  lodged,  etc. ,  etc.  And  when  I 
mentioned  the  Black  Raven,  they  went  off  into  ecstatic  raptures 
over  the  venison  pasty  of  Madame  von  Blaken.  They  then  went 
on  to  relate  that  Madame  Blaken  was  renowned  throughout  all  Hol- 
land because  of  this  venison  pasty  of  which  she  alone  had  the  recipe, 
and  which  she  prepared  always  alone  and  with  closed  doors.  Her 
portrait  is  to  be  seen  in  all  the  shop  windows,  and  all  the  stadthol- 
ders  dine  once  a  month  in  the  Black  Raven  to  enjoy  this  pie. 
Neither  through  prayers  nor  entreaties,  commands,  or  threatenings, 
has  Madame  Blaken  been  induced  to  give  up  her  recipe  or  even  to 
go  to  the  castle  and  prepare  the  pasty.    She  declares  that  this  is 


70  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  richest  possession  of  the  Black  Raven,  and  all  who  would  be  so 
happy  as  to  enjoy  it  must  partake  of  it  at  her  table.  Balby  !  Balby  ! 
hasten  my  good  fellow,  and  command  the  venison  pastry,"  said 
Frederick,  eagerly.  "Ah  !  what  bliss  to  lodge  in  the  Black  Raven! 
Waiter,  I  say  I  fly  to  this  exalted  woman !" 

Balby  rushed  out  to  seek  the  hostess  and  have  himself  an 
nounced. 

Madame  Blaken  received  him  in  her  boudoir,  to  which  she  had 
withdrawn  to  rest  a  little  after  the  labors  of  the  day.  These  labors 
were  ever  a  victory  and  added  to  her  fame.  There  was  no  better 
table  prepared  in  Holland  than  that  of  the  Black  Raven.  She  was 
in  full  toilet,  having  just  left  the  dinner  table  where  she  had  presided 
at  the  table  d'Jidte  as  lady  of  the  house,  and  received  with  dignity 
the  praise  of  her  guests.  These  encomiums  still  resounded  in  her 
ears,  and  she  reclined  upon  the  divan  and  listened  to  their  pleasing 
echo.  The  door  opened  and  the  head  waiter  announced  Mr.  ZoUer. 
The  countenance  of  Madame  Blaken  was  dark,  and  she  was  upon  the 
point  of  declining  to  receive  him,  but  it  was  too  late ;  the  daring 
Zoller  had  had  the  boldness  to  enter  just  behind  the  waiter,  and  he 
was  now  making  his  most  reverential  bow  to  the  lady.  Madame 
Blaken  returned  this  greeting  with  a  slight  nod  of  the  head,  and 
she  regarded  the  stranger  in  his  cheap  and  simple  toilet  with  a 
rather  contemptuous  smile.  She  thought  to  herself  that  this  ordinary 
man  had  surely  made  a  mistake  in  entering  her  hotel.  Neither  his 
rank,  fortune,  nor  celebrity  could  justify  his  lodging  at  the  Black 
Raven.  She  was  resolved  to  reprove  her  head  waiter  for  allowing 
such  plain  and  poor  people  to  enter  the  best  hotel  in  Amsterdam. 

"  Sir, "  said  she,  in  a  cold  and  cutting  tone,  ''  you  come  without 
doubt  to  excuse  your  brother  and  yourself  for  not  having  appeared 
to-day  at  my  table  d'hdte.  You  certainly  know  that  politeness  re- 
quires that  you  should  dine  in  the  hotel  where  you  lodge.  Do  not 
distress  yourself,  however,  sir.  I  do  not  feel  offended  now  that  I 
have  seen  you.  I  imderstand  fully  why  you  did  not  dine  with  me, 
but  sought  your  modest  meal  elsewhere.  The  table  d'hdte  in  the 
Black  Raven  is  the  most  expensive  in  Amsterdam,  and  only  wealthy 
people  put  their  feet  under  my  table  and  enjoy  my  dishes. " 

While  she  thus  spoke,  her  glance  wandered  searchingly  over 
Balby,  who  did  not  seem  to  remark  it,  or  to  comprehend  her  signifi- 
cant words. 

"  Madame, "  said  he,  "  allow  me  to  remark  that  we  have  not  dined. 
My  brother,  whose  will  is  always  mine,  prefers  taking  his  dinner  in 
his  own  apartment,  where  he  has  more  quiet  comfort  and  can  better 
enjoy  your  rare  viands.  He  never  dines  at  a  table  d'hdte.  In  every 
direction  he  has  heard  of  your  wonderful  pie,  and  I  come  in  his 


IN  AMSTERDAM.  71 

name  to  ask  that  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  prepare  one  for  his  dinner 
to-day. " 

Madame  Blaken  laughed  aloud.  "  Truly  said  ;  that  is  not  a  bad 
idea  of  your  brother's.  My  pasty  is  celebrated  throughout  all  Hol- 
land, and  I  have  generally  one  ready  in  case  a  rich  or  renowned 
guest  should  desire  it.     But  this  pie  is  not  for  every  man  !" 

"  My  brother  wants  it  for  himself — himself  alone, "  said  Balby, 
decisively.     Even  the  proud  hostess  felt  his  tone  imposing. 

"Sir,"  said  she,  after  a  short  pause,  "forgive  me  if  I  speak 
plainly  to  you.  You  wish  to  eat  one  of  my  renowned  pies,  and  to 
have  it  served  in  a  private  room,  as  the  General  Stadtholder  and 
other  high  potentates  are  accustomed  to  do.  Well,  I  have  this 
morning  a  pasty  made  with  truffles  and  Chinese  birds' -nests,  but 
you  cannot  have  it !  To  be  frank,  it  is  enormously  dear,  and  I  think 
neither  your  brother  nor  yourself  could  pay  for  it !" 

And  now  it  was  Balby's  turn  to  laugh  aloud,  and  he  did  so  with 
the  free,  unembaiTassed  gayety  of  a  man  who  is  sure  of  his  position, 
and  is  neither  confused  nor  offended. 

Madame  Blaken  was  somewhat  provoked  by  this  unrestrained 
merriment.  "You  laugh,  sir,  but  I  have  good  reason  for  supposing 
you  to  be  j)Oor  and  unknown.  You  came  covered  with  dust  and  on 
foot  to  my  hotel,  accompanied  by  one  servant  carrying  a  small 
carpet-bag.  You  have  neither  equipage,  retinue,  nor  baggage. 
You  receive  no  visits ;  and,  as  it  appears,  make  none.  You  are 
always  dressed  in  your  simple,  modest,  rather  forlora-looking  brown 
coats.  You  have  never  taken  a  dinner  here,  but  pass  the  day  abroad, 
and  when  you  return  in  the  evening  you  ask  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  a 
few  slices  of  bread  and  butter.  Rich  people  do  not  travel  in  this 
style,  and  I  therefore  have  the  right  to  ask  if  you  can  afford  to  pay 
for  my  pasty?  I  do  not  know  who  or  what  you  are,  nor  your 
brother's  position  in  the  world. " 

"  Oh, "  cried  Balby,  who  was  highly  amused  by  the  candor  of  the 
hostess,  "  my  brother  has  a  most  distinguished  position,  I  assure  you 
— his  fame  resounds  throughout  Germany. " 

"Bah!"  said  Madame  Blaken,  shrugging  her  shoulders;  "the 
name  is  entirely  unknown  to  us.  Pray,  what  is  your  brother,  and 
for  what  is  he  celebrated?" 

"  For  his  flute, "  answered  Balby,  with  solemn  gravity. 

Madame  Blaken  rose  and  glanced  scorafuUy  at  Balby.  "Are  you 
making  sport  of  me,  sir?"  said  she,  threateningly. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  madame  ;  I  am  telling  you  an  important  truth. 
My  brother  is  a  renowned  virtuoso. " 

"  A  virtuoso  ?  "  repeated  the  hostess ;  "  I  do  not  understand  the 
word.     Pray,  what  is  a  virtuoso  f  " 


n         niEDEHICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

'^  A  virtuoso,  niadame,  is  a  musician  who  makes  such  music  as 
no  other  man  can  make.  He  gives  concerts,  and  sells  the  tickets 
for  an  enormous  price,  and  the  world  rushes  to  hear  his  music.  I 
assure  you,  madame,  my  brother  can  play  so  enchantingly  that  those 
who  hear  his  flute  are  forced  to  dance  in  spite  of  themselves.  He 
receives  large  sums  of  gold,  and  if  he  gives  a  concert  here  you  will 
see  that  all  j'our  distinguished  people  will  flock  to  hear  him.  You 
can  set  your  pasty  before  him  without  fear— he  is  able  to  pay  richly 
for  it. " 

Madame  Blaken  rose  without  a  word  and  advanced  toward  the 
door.  "  Come,  sir,  come.  I  am  going  to  your  brother. "  Without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  she  stepped  through  tlie  corridor  and  tapped 
lightly  at  the  stranger's  door.  She  was  on  the  point  of  opening  it, 
but  Balby  caught  her  hand  hastily. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "allow  me  to  enter  and  inquire  if  you  can 
be  received."  He  wished  to  draw  her  back  from  the  door,  but  the 
hostess  of  the  Black  Raven  was  not  the  woman  to  be  withdrawn. 

"You  wish  to  ask  if  I  can  enter?"  repeated  she.  "I  may  well 
claim  tliat  privilege  in  my  own  house. " 

With  a  determined  hand  she  knocked  once  more  upon  the  door, 
opened  it  immediately  and  entered,  followed  by  Balby,  who  by 
signs  endeavored  to  explain  and  beg  pardon  for  the  intrusion. 

Frederick  did  not  regard  him,  his  blue  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
woman  who,  with  laughing  good-humor,  stepped  up  to  him  and 
held  out  both  of  her  large,  course  hands  in  greeting.    . 

"Sir,  I  come  to  convince  myself  if  what  your  brother  said  was 
true." 

"Well,  madame,  what  has  my  brother  said?" 

"He  declares  that  you  can  whistle  splendidly,  and  all  the  world 
is  forced  to  dance  after  your  music. " 

"  I  said  play  the  flute,  madame !  I  said  play  the  flute !"  cried 
Balby,  horrified. 

"Well,  flute  or  whistle,"  said  Madame  Blaken,  proudly,  "it's  the 
same  thing.  Be  so  good,  sir,  as  to  whistle  me  something ;  I  will 
then  decide  as  to  the  pasty. " 

The  king  looked  at  Balby  curiously. 

"Will  you  have  the  goodness,  brother,  to  explain  madame's 
meaning,  and  what  she  requires  of  me?" 

"Allow  me  to  explain  myself,"  said  the  hostess.  "This  gentle- 
man came  and  ordered  a  rich  pie  for  you;  this  pasty  has  given 
celebrity  to  my  house.  It  is  true  I  have  one  prepared,  but  I  would 
not  send  it  to  you.  Would  you  know  why?  Tliis  is  an  enormously 
expensive  dish,  and  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  you  are  iu  a 
condition  to  pay  for  it.     I  said  this  to  yoiir  brother,  and  I  might 


IN  AMSTERDAM.  ^3 

with  truth  have  told  him  that  I  regretted  to  see  him  in  my  hotel — 
not  that  you  are  in  yourselves  objectionable,  on  the  contrary,  you 
appear  to  me  to  be  harmless  and  amiable  men,  but  because  of  your 
pm-ses.  I  fear  that  you  do  not  know  the  charges  of  first-class  hotels, 
and  will  be  amazed  at  your  bill.  Your  brother,  however,  assures 
me  that  you  can  afford  to  pay  for  all  you  order ;  that  you  make  a 
great  deal  of  money  ;  that  you  are  a  virtuoso,  give  concerts,  and  sell 
tickets  at  the  highest  price.  Now,  I  will  convince  myself  if  you 
are  a  great  musician  and  can  support  yourself.  "Whistle  me  some- 
thing, and  I  will  decide  as  to  the  pie. " 

The  king  listened  to  all  this  with  suppressed  merriment,  and  gave 
Balby  a  significant  look. 

"Bring  my  flute,  brother;  I  will  convince  madame  that  I  am 
indeed  a  virtuoso. " 

"Let  us  hear,"  said  Madame  Blaken,  seating  herself  upon  the 
sofa  from  which  the  king  had  just  arisen. 

Frederick  made,  with  indescribable  solemnity,  a  profound  bow 
to  the  hostess.  He  placed  the  flute  to  his  lips  and  began  to  play, 
but  not  in  his  accustomed  masterly  style — not  in  those  mild,  floating 
melodies,  those  solemn  sacred,  and  exalted  strains  which  it  was  his 
custom  to  draw  from  his  beloved  flute.  He  played  a  gay  and  brill- 
iant solo,  full  of  double  trills  and  rhapsodies  ;  it  was  an  astounding 
medley,  which  seemed  to  make  a  triumphal  march  over  the  instru- 
ment, overcoming  all  difficulties.  But  those  soft  tones  which 
touched  the  soul  and  roused  to  noble  thoughts  were  wanting ;  in 
truth,  the  melody  failed,  the  music  was  wanting. 

Madame  Blaken  listened  with  ever- increasing  rapture  to  this 
wondrous  exercise ;  these  trills,  springing  from  octave  to  octave, 
drew  forth  her  loudest  applause  ;  she  trembled  with  ecstasy,  and  as 
the  king  closed  with  a  brilliant  cadence,  she  clapped  her  hands  and 
shouted  enthusiastically.  She  stood  up  respectfully  before  the  ar- 
tiste in  the  simple  brown  coat,  and  bowing  low,  said  earnestly  : 

"  Your  brother  was  right,  you  can  surely  earn  much  money  by 
your  whistle.  You  whistle  as  clearly  as  my  mocking-bird.  You 
shall  have  the  pie — I  go  to  order  it  at  once, "  and  she  hastened  from 
the  room. 

"Well,"  said  the  king,  laughing,  "this  was  a  charming  scene, 
and  I  thank  you  for  it,  brother  Henry.  It  is  a  proud  and  happy 
feeling  to  know  that  you  can  stand  upon  your  feet,  or  walk  alone ; 
in  other  words,  that  j'ou  can  earn  a  support.  Now,  if  the  sun  of 
Prussia  sets,  I  shall  not  hunger,  for  I  can  earn  my  bread  ;  Madame 
Blaken  assures  me  of  it.     But,  Henry,  did  I  not  play  eminently?" 

"  That  was  the  most  glittering,  dazzling  piece  for  a  concert  which 
I  ever  heard,"  said  Balby,  "and  Mr.  Zoller  may  well  be  proud  of  it, 
0 


74         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

but  I  counsel  hiui  not  to  play  it  before  the  King  of  Prussia;  he 
would,  in  his  jealousy,  declare  it  was  not  music,  nothing  but  sound, 
and  signifying  nothing. " 

"Bravo,  my  friend, "said  Frederick,  taking  his  friend's  hand; 
"yes,  he  would  say  that.  Mr.  ZoUer  played  like  a  true  virtuoso, 
that  is  to  say,  without  intellect  and  without  soul ;  he  did  not  make 
music,  only  artistic  tones.  But  here  comes  the  pasty,  and  I  shall 
relish  it  wondrous  well.  It  is  the  first  meat  I  have  ever  earned  with 
my  flute.     Let  us  eat,  brother  Henry. " 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    KING    WITHOUT    SHOES. 

The  pie  was  really  worthy  of  its  reputation,  and  the  king  en- 
joyed it  highly.  He  was  gay  and  talkative,  and  amused  himself  in 
recalling  the  varied  adventures  of  the  past  five  days. 

"  They  will  soon  be  tempi  passati,  these  giorni  felice, "  he  said, 
sighing.  "  To-day  is  the  last  day  of  our  freedom  and  happiness ;  to- 
morrow we  must  take  up  our  yoke,  and  exchange  our  simple  brown 
coats  for  dashing  imiforms. " 

"  I  know  one,  at  least,  who  is  rejoicing, "  said  Balby,  laughing, 
"the  imhappy  Deesen,  who  has  just  sworn  most  solemnly  that  he 
would  thi'ow  himself  in  the  river  if  he  had  to  play  much  longer  the 
part  of  a  servant  without  livery — a  servant  of  two  unknown  musi- 
cians ;  and  he  told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  not  a  respectable 
man  in  the  house  would  speak  to  him  ;  that  the  pretty  maids  would 
not  even  listen  to  his  soft  sighs  and  tender  words. " 

"  Dress  makes  the  man, "  said  the  king,  laughing ;  "  if  Deesen 
wore  his  cabinet- hussar  livery  these  proud  beauties  who  now  despise, 
would  smile  insidiously.  How  strangely  the  world  is  constituted ! 
But  let  us  enjoy  our  freedom  while  we  may.  We  still  have  some 
collections  of  paintings  to  examine — here  are  some  splendid  pictures 
of  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  to  be  sold.  Then,  last  of  all,  I  have  an 
important  piece  of  business  to  transact  with  the  great  banker,  Witte, 
on  whom  I  have  a  draft.  You  know  that  Madame  Blaken  is  expen- 
sive, and  the  picture-dealers  will  not  trust  our  honest  faces ;  we 
must  show  them  hard  cash. " 

"Does  your ShaU  I  not  go  to  the  bankers  and  draw  the 

money?"  said  Balby. 

"  Oh  no,  I  find  it  pleasant  to  serve  myself,  to  be  my  own  master 
and  servant  at  the  same  time.  Allow  me  this  rare  pleasure  for  a 
few  hours  longer,  Balby. " 


THE  KING  WITHOUT  SHOES.  76 

The  king  took  his  friend's  arm,  and  recommenced  his  search  for 
paintings  and  treasures  to  adorn  his  gallery  at  Sans-Souci.  Every- 
where he  was  received  kindly  and  respectfully,  for  all  recognized 
them  as  purchasers,  and  not  idle  sight-seers.  The  dealers  appreci- 
ated the  difference  between  idle  enthusiasm  and  well-filled  purses. 

The  king  understood  this  well,  and  on  leaving  the  house  of  the 
last  rich  merchant  he  breathed  more  freely,  and  said  : 

"  I  am  glad  that  is  over.  The  rudeness  of  the  postmaster  at  Gravo 
pleased  me  better  than  the  civilities  of  these  people.  Come,  Balby, 
we  have  bought  pictures  enough ;  now  we  will  only  admire  them, 
enjoy  without  appropriating  them.  The  rich  banker,  Abramson,  is 
said  to  have  a  beautiful  collection  ;  we  will  examine  them,  and  then 
have  our  draft  cashed. " 

The  banker's  splendid  house  was  soon  found,  and  the  brothers 
entered  the  house  boldly,  and  demanded  of  the  richly-dressed, 
liveried  servant  to  be  conducted  to  the  gallery. 

"Tliis  is  not  the  regular  day, "  said  the  servant,  with  a  contemptu- 
ous shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  he  measured  the  two  strangers. 

'*  Not  the  day  !    What  day  ?"  asked  the  king,  sharply. 

"  Not  the  day  of  general  exhibition.  You  must  wait  imtil  next 
Tuesdaj'. " 

"Impossible,  we  leave  to-morrow.  Go  to  your  master  and  tell 
him  two  strangers  wish  to  see  his  gallery,  and  beg  it  may  be  opened 
for  them." 

There  was  something  so  haughty  and  irresistible  in  the  stranger's 
manner,  that  the  servant  not  daring  to  refuse,  and  still  astonished 
at  his  own  compliance,  went  to  inform  his  master  of  the  request. 
He  returned  in  a  few  moments,  and  announced  that  his  master 
would  come  himself  to  receive  them. 

The  door  opened  immediately,  and  Mr.  Abramson  stepped  into 
the  hall ;  his  face,  bright  and  friendly,  darkened  when  his  black 
eyes  fell  upon  the  two  strangers  standing  in  the  hall. 

"  You  desired  to  speak  to  me, "  he  said,  in  the  arrogant  tone  that 
the  rich  Jews  are  accustomed  to  use  when  speaking  to  unknown  and 
poor  people.     "What  is  your  wish,  sirs?" 

The  king's  brow  darkened,  and  he  looked  angrily  at  the  super- 
cilious man  of  fortune,  who  was  standing  opposite  him,  with  his 
head  proudly  thrown  back,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  But 
Frederick's  countenance  soon  cleared,  and  he  said,  with  perfect 
composure : 

"  We  wish  you  to  show  us  your  picture-gallery,  sir. " 

The  tone  in  which  he  spoke  was  less  pleading  than  commanding, 
and  roused  the  anger  of  the  easily-enraged  parvenu. 

"Sir,  I  have  a  picture-gallery,  aiTanged  for  my  own  pleasur* 


76  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

and  paid  for  with  ray  own  money.  I  am  very  willing  to  show  it  to 
all  who  have  not  the  money  to  purchase  pictures  for  themselves  ;  and 
to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  strangers,  I  have  set  aside  a  day  in  each 
week  on  which  to  exhibit  my  gallery." 

"  You  mean,  then,  sir,  that  you  will  not  allow  us  to  enter  your 
museum?"  said  the  king,  smilingly,  and  laying  his  hand  at  the 
same  time  softly  on  Balby's  arm,  to  prevent  him  from  speaking. 

"  I  mean  that  my  museum  is  closed,  and — " 

A  carriage  rolled  thunderingly  to  the  door ;  the  outer  doors  of  the 
hall  were  hastily  opened,  a  liveried  servant  entered,  and  stepping 
immediately  to  Mr.  Abramson,  he  said : 

"Lord  Middlestone,  of  London,  asks  the  honor  of  seeing  your 
gallery. " 

The  countenance  of  the  Jewish  banker  beamed  with  delight. 

"Will  his  excellency  have  the  graciousness  to  enter?  I  consider 
it  an  honor  to  show  him  my  poor  treasures.  My  gallery  is  closed  to- 
day, but  for  Lord  Middlestone,  I  will  open  it  gladly. " 

His  contemptuous  glance  met  the  two  poor  musicians,  who  had 
stepped  aside,  and  were  silent  witnesses  of  this  scene. 

The  outer  doors  of  the  court  were  opened  noisily,  and  a  small, 
shrivelled  human  form,  assisted  by  two  servants,  staggered  into  the 
hall.  It  was  an  old  man,  wrapped  in  furs  ;  this  was  his  excellency 
Lord  Middlestone.  Mr.  Abramson  met  him  with  a  profound  bow, 
and  sprang  forward  to  the  door  that  led  to  the  gallery. 

Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  this  sad  picture  of  earthly  pomp  and 
greatness ;  all  felt  the  honor  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Abramson.  Lord 
Sliddlestone,  the  ambassador  of  the  King  of  England,  desired  to  see 
his  collection.  This  was  an  acknowledgment  of  merit  that  de- 
lighted the  heart  of  the  banker,  and  added  a  new  splendor  to  his 
house. 

While  the  door  was  being  opened  to  admit  his  lordship,  Balby 
and  the  king  left  the  house  unnoticed. 

The  king  was  angry,  and  walked  silently  along  for  a  time ;  sud- 
denly remaining  standing,  he  gazed  steadily  at  Balby,  and  broke 
out  into  a  loud,  merry  laugh,  that  startled  the  passers-by,  and  made 
them  look  wonder ingly  after  him. 

"Balby,  my  friend,"  he  said,  still  laughing,  "I  will  tell  you 
something  amusing.  Never  in  my  life  did  I  feel  so  humble  aud 
ashamed  as  when  his  excellency  entered  the  gallery  so  triumphantly, 
and  we  slipped  away  so  quietly  from  the  house.  Truly,  I  was  fool 
enough  to  be  angry  at  first,  but  I  now  feel  that  the  scene  was  irre- 
sistibly comic.  Oh !  oh,  Balby !  do  laugh  with  me.  Think  of  us, 
who  imagine  ourselves  to  be  such  splendidly  handsome  men,  being 
shown  the  door,  and  that  horrid  shrunken,  diseased  qld  mw  being 


THE  mNG  WITHOUT  SHOES.  C'7 

received  with  such  consideration !  He  smelt  like  a  salve-box,  we 
are  odorous  with  ambrosia ;  but  all  in  vain,  Abramson  prefen-ed  the 
8alve-box.  " 

"  Abramson 's  olfactories  are  not  those  of  a  courtier, "  said  Balby, 
"  or  he  would  have  fainted  at  the  odor  of  royalty.  But  truly,  this 
Mr.  Abramson  is  a  disgraceful  person,  and  I  beg  your  majesty  to 
avenge  Mr.  ZoUer. " 

"  I  shall  do  so.  He  deserves  punishment ;  he  has  insulted  me  as 
a  man ;  the  king  will  punish  him. "  * 

"And  now  we  will  have  our  check  cashed  by  Mr.  Witte.  I  bet 
he  will  not  dismiss  us  so  curtly,  for  my  draft  is  for  ten  thousand 
crowns,  and  he  will  be  respectful — if  not  to  us,  to  our  money. " 

The  worthy  and  prosperous  Madame  Witte  had  just  finished  dust- 
ing and  cleaning  her  state  apartment,  and  was  giving  it  a  last  artis- 
tic survey.  She  smiled  contentedly,  and  acknowledged  that  there 
was  nothing  more  to  be  done.  The  mirrors  and  windows  were  of 
ti-ansparent  brightness — no  dust  was  seen  on  the  silk  furniture  or 
the  costly  ornaments — it  was  perfect.  With  a  sad  sigh  Madame 
Witte  left  the  room  and  locked  the  door  with  almost  a  feeling  of 
regi'et.  She  must  deny  herself  for  the  next  few  days  her  favorite 
occupation — there  was  nothing  more  to  dust  or  clean  in  the  apart- 
ment and  only  in  this  room  was  her  field  of  operation — only  here 
did  her  husband  allow  her  to  play  the  servant.  With  this  exception 
he  required  of  her  to  be  the  lady  of  the  house — the  noble  wife  of  the 
rich  banker — and  this  was  a  role  that  pleased  the  good  wonaan  but 
little.  She  locked  the  door  with  a  sigh  and  drew  on  her  shoes,  which 
she  was  accustomed  always  to  leave  in  the  hall  before  entering  her 
state  apai-tment,  then  stepped  carefully  on  the  border  of  the  carpet  that 
covered  the  hall  to  another  door.  At  this  moment  violent  ringing 
was  heard  at  the  front  door.  Madame  Witte  moved  quickly  for- 
ward to  follow  the  bent  of  her  womanly  curiosity  and  see  who  de- 
sired admittance  at  this  unusual  hour.  Two  strangers  had  already 
entered  the  hall  and  desired  to  see  the  banker. 

"Mr.  Witte  is  not  at  home,  and  if  your  business  is  not  too  press- 
ing, call  again  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  my  business  is  pressing, "  said  Frederick  ZoUer,  hastily  ;  "  I 
must  speak  with  Mr.  Witte  to-day." 

"Can  they  wish  to  borrow  money  from  him?"  thought  Madame 
Witte,  who  saw  the  two  strangers  through  tlie  half-opened  door. 
"  To  bon'ow,  or  to  ask  credit,  I  am  sure  that  is  their  business. " 

*  The  king  kept  his  word.  Tlie  Jew  heard  afterward  that  it  was  the  king  whom 
he  had  treated  so  disrespectfully,  and  he  could  never  obtain  his  forgiveness.  He  was 
not  allowed  to  negotiate  with  the  Prussian  government  or  banks,  and  was  thus  bit- 
terly punished  for  his  misconduct. 


78         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"May  I  ask  the  nature  of  your  business?"  said  the  servant.  "In 
order  to  bring  Mr.  Witte  from  the  Casino  I  must  know  what  you 
wish  of  him. " 

"  I  desire  to  have  a  draft  of  ten  thousand  crowns  cashed, "  said 
Frederick  Zoller,  sharply. 

The  door  was  opened  hastily,  and  Madame  Witte  stepped  forward 
to  greet  the  stranger  and  his  companion.  "Have  the  kindness, 
gentlemen,  to  step  in  and  await  my  husband ;  he  will  be  here  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Go,  Andres,  for  Mr.  Witte. "  Andres  ran  off, 
and  Madame  Witte  accompanied  the  strangers  through  the  hall. 
Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  state  apartment,  she  quickly  drew  off 
her  shoes,  and  then  remained  standing,  looking  expectantly  at  the 
strangers. 

"Well,  madame, "  said  the  king,  "shall  we  await  Mr.  Witte  be- 
fore this  door,  or  will  you  show  us  into  the  next  room?" 

"  Certainly  I  will ;  but  I  am  waiting  on  you. " 

"  On  us?    And  what  do  you  expect  of  us?" 

"  What  I  have  done,  sirs — to  take  your  shoes  off. " 

The  king  laughed  aloud.  "Can  no  one,  then,  enter  that  room 
with  shoes  on?" 

"  Never,  sir.  It  was  a  custom  of  my  great-grandfather.  He  had 
this  house  built,  and  never  since  then  has  any  one  entered  it  with 
shoes.     Please,  therefore,  take  them  off." 

Balby  hastened  to  comply  with  her  peremptory  command. 
"Madame,  it  will  suffice  you  for  me  to  follow  this  custom  of  your 
ancestora — you  will  spare  my  brother  this  ceremony." 

"And  why?"  asked  Madame  Witte,  astonished.  "His  shoes  are 
no  cleaner  or  finer  than  yours,  or  those  of  other  men.  Have  the 
kindness  to  take  off  your  shoes  also. " 

"  You  are  right,  madame,  "said  the  king,  seriously.  "We  must 
leave  off  the  old  man  altogether ;  therefore,  you  ask  but  little  in 
requiring  us  to  take  off  our  shoes  before  entering  your  state  apart- 
ment."  He  stooped  to  undo  the  buckles  of  his  shoes,  and  wlien 
Balby  wished  to  assist  him,  he  resisted.  "No,  no;  you  shall  not 
loosen  my  shoes— you  are  too  worthy  for  that.  Madame  Witte 
miglit  think  that  I  am  a  very  assuming  person — that  I  tyrannize 
over  my  brother.  There,  madame,  the  buckles  are  imdone,  and 
there  lie  my  shoes,  and  now  we  are  ready  to  enter  your  state  apart- 
ment. " 

Madame  Witte  opened  the  door  with  cold  gravity,  and  allowed 
them  to  pass.  "To-morrow  I  can  dust  again,  "she  said,  gleefully, 
"for  the  strangers'  clothes  are  very  dirty. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  two  strangers  awaited  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Witte.     The  king  enjoyed  his  comic  situation  immensely.     Balby 


THE  KING  WITHOUT  SHOES.  79 

looked  anxiously  at  the  bare  feet  of  the  king,  and  said  he  should 
never  have  submitted  to  Madame  Witte's  caprice.  The  floor  was 
cold,  and  the  king  might  be  taken  ill. 

"  Oh,  no, "  said  Frederick,  "  I  do  not  get  sick  so  easily — my  sys- 
tem can  stand  severer  hardships.  We  should  be  thankful  that  we 
have  come  off  so  cheaply,  for  a  rich  banker  like  Witte  in  Amster- 
dam, is  equal  to  the  Pope  in  Rome ;  and  I  do  not  think  taking  off 
our  shoes  is  paying  too  dearly  to  see  the  pope  of  Holland.  Just 
think  what  King  Hemy  IV.  had  to  lay  aside  before  he  could  see  the 
Pope  of  Rome — not  only  his  shoes  and  stockings  and  a  few  other 
articles,  but  his  royalty  and  majesty.  Madame  Witte  is  really  for- 
bearing not  to  require  the  same  costume  of  us. " 

The  door  behind  them  was  opened  hastily,  and  the  banker  Witte 
stepped  in.  He  advanced  to  meet  them  with  a  quiet  smile,  but 
suddenly  checked  himself,  and  gazed  with  teiTor  at  the  king. 

"  My  God !  his  majesty  the  King  of  Prussia !"  he  stammered. 
"  Oh  I  your  majesty  I  what  an  undeserved  favor  you  are  doing  my 
poor  house  in  honoring  it  with  your  presence !" 

"You  know  me,  then?"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "Well,  I  beg 
you  may  not  betray  my  incognito,  and  cash  for  Frederick  Zoller  this 
draft  of  ten  thousand  crowns. " 

He  stepped  forward  to  hand  the  banker  the  draft.  Mr.  Witte 
uttered  a  cry  of  horror,  and,  wringing  his  hands,  fell  upon  \\i» 
knees.     He  had  just  seen  that  the  king  was  barefooted. 

"Oh!  your  majesty!  Mercy!  mercy!"  he  pleaded.  "Pardon  my 
unhappy  wife,  who  could  not  dream  of  the  crime  she  was  commit- 
ting. Why  did  your  majesty  consent  to  her  insane  demand?  Why 
did  you  not  peremptorily  refuse  to  take  off  your  shoes  ?" 

"Why?  Well,  ma  foi,  because  I  wished  to  spare  the  King  of 
Prussia  a  humiliation.  I  believe  Madame  Witte  would  rather  have 
thrown  me  out  of  the  house  than  allowed  me  to  enter  this  sacred 
room  with  my  shoes  on. " 

"  No,  your  majesty,  no.    She  would — " 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Madame  Witte,  drawn  by 
the  loud  voice  of  her  husband,  entered  the  room. 

"  Wife !"  he  cried,  rising,  "  come  forward  ;  fall  on  your  knees 
and  plead  for  forgiveness. " 

"What  have  I  done?"  she  asked,  wonderingly. 

"  You  compelled  this  gentleman  to  take  off  his  shoes  at  the  door. " 

"  WeU,  and  what  of  that?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Witte,  solemnly,  as  he  laid  his  arm  upon  his 
wife's  shoulder  and  tried  to  force  her  to  her  knees,  "this  is  his 
majesty  the  King  of  Prussia !" 

Put  the  all-importewt  words  hftd  not  the  expected  ©ffeot-    Ma- 


80         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

dame  Witte  remained  quietly  standing,  and  looked  first  upon  her 
own  bare  feet  and  then  curiously  at  the  king. 

"Beg  the  king's  pardon  for  your  most  unseemly  conduct, "  said 
Witte. 

"Why  was  it  unseemly?"  asked  his  better-half.  "Do  I  not  take 
off  my  shoes  every  time  I  enter  this  room?  The  room  is  mine,  and 
does  not  belong  to  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

Witte  raised  his  hands  above  his  head  in  despair.  The  king 
laughed  loudly  and  heartily. 

"  You  see  I  was  right,  sir, "  he  said.  "  Only  obedience  could  spare 
the  King  of  Prussia  a  humiliation.  *  But  let  us  go  to  your  business - 
room  and  arrange  our  moneyed  affairs.  There,  madame,  I  suppose 
you  will  allow  me  to  put  on  my  shoes. " 

Without  a  word,  Mr.  Witte  rushed  from  the  room  for  the  king's 
shoes,  and  hastened  to  put  them,  not  before  the  king,  but  before  the 
door  that  led  into  his  counting  room. 

With  a  gay  smile,  the  king  stepped  along  the  border  of  the  carpet 
to  his  shoes,  and  let  Balby  put  them  on  for  him. 

"  Madame, "  he  said,  "  I  see  that  you  are  really  mistress  in  your 
own  house,  and  that  you  are  obeyed,  not  from  force,  but  from  in- 
stinct.    Grod  preserve  you  your  strong  will  and  your  good  husband  !" 

"Now,"  said  the  king,  after  they  had  received  the  money  and 
returned  to  the  hotel,  "  we  must  make  all  our  arrangements  to  return 
to-morrow  morning  early — our  incognito  is  over !  Mr.  Witte  prom- 
ised not  to  betray  us,  but  his  wife  is  not  to  be  trusted  ;  therefore,  by 
to-morrow  morning,  the  world  will  know  that  the  King  of  Prussia 
is  in  Amsterdam.  Happily,  Mr.  Witte  does  not  know  where  I  am 
stopping.  I  hope  to  be  undisturbed  to  day,  but  by  to-morrow  this 
will  be  impossible. " 

The  king  prophesied  aright :  Madame  Witte  was  zealously  en- 
gaged in  telling  her  friends  the  important  news  that  the  King  of 
Prussia  had  visited  her  husband,  and  was  now  in  Amsterdam. 

The  news  rolled  like  an  avalanche  from  house  to  house,  from 
street  to  street,  and  even  reached  the  mayor's  door,  who,  in  spite  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  called  a  meeting  of  the  magistrates,  and 
sent  policemen  to  all  the  hotels  to  demand  a  list  of  the  strangers  wliu 
had  arrived  during  the  last  few  days.  In  order  to  greet  the  king, 
they  must  first  find  him. 

Early  the  next  morning,  a  simple  caliche,  with  two  horses,  stood 
at  the  hotel  of  the  "Black  Raven. "  The  brothers  2k»ller  were  about 
to  leave  Amsterdam,  and,  to  Madame  Blaken's  astonishment,  they 
not  only  paid  their  bill  without  murmuring,  but  left  a  rich  douceur 

*  The  king's  own  words.  See  Ki^olai'^  "  Apeodpte^  of  Frederick  the  Qlreat,"  coj 
leotion  v.,  p.  3J. 


THE  KINli  WITHOUT  SHOES.  81 

for  the  serrants.  The  hostess  stepped  to  the  door  to  bid  them  fare- 
well, and  nodded  kindly  as  they  came  down  the  steps.  Their  ser- 
vant followed  with  the  little  carpet-bag  and  the  two  music-cases. 

When  Deesen  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  hostess,  and 
the  two  head -servants,  he  advanced  near  to  the  king. 

"  Your  majesty,  may  I  now  speak  ?"  he  murmured. 

"  Not  yet, "  said  he  king,  smiling,  "  wait  until  we  are  in  the  car- 
riage. " 

He  descended  the  steps,  with  a  friendly  nod  to  the  hostess. 
Balby  and  himself  left  the  house. 

"See,  my  friend,  how  truly  I  prophesied,  "he  said,  as  he  pointed 
down  the  street ;  "  let  us  get  in  quickly,  it  is  high  time  to  be  oflF ;  see 
the  crowd  advancing. " 

Frederick  was  right ;  from  the  end  of  the  street  there  came  a  long 
procession  of  men,  headed  by  the  two  mayors,  dressed  in  black  robes, 
trimmed  with  broad  red  bands.  They  were  followed  by  the  senators, 
clothed  in  the  same  manner.  A  great  number  of  the  rich  aristocrats 
of  the  city  accompanied  them. 

Madame  Blaken  had  stepped  from  the  house,  and  was  looking 
curiously  at  the  approaching  crowd,  and  while  she  and  her  maids 
were  wondering  what  this  could  mean,  the  two  Mr.  ZoUers  entered 
the  carriage,  and  their  servant  had  mounted  the  box. 

"May  I  speak  now?"  said  Deesen,  turning  to  the  king. 

"Yes,  speak,"  said  the  king,  "but  quickly,  or  the  crowd  will 
take  your  secret  from  you. " 

"  Hostess !"  cried  Deesen,  from  the  box,  "  do  you  know  what  that 
crowd  means?" 

"  No, "  she  said,  superciliously. " 

"  I  will  explain ;  listen,  madame.  The  magistrates  are  coming 
to  greet  the  King  of  Prussia !" 

"The  King  of  Prussia!"  shrieked  the  hostess.  "Where  is  the 
King  of  Prussia?" 

"Here!"  cried  Deesen,  with  a  malicious  grin,  as  he  pointed  to 
the  king,  "and  I  am  his  majesty's  cabiuet- hussar !  Forward,  pos- 
tilion !— quicli,  forward !" 

The  postilion  whipped  his  horses,  and  the  carriage  dashed  by 
the  mayors  and  senators,  who  were  marching  to  greet  the  King  of 
Prussia.  They  never  dreamed  that  he  had  just  passed  mischievously 
by  them. 

Two  days  later,  the  king  and  his  companions.stood  on  the  Prussian 
border,  on  the  spot  where,  in  the  beginning  of  their  journey,  the 
king  had  written  the  words  "  majesty"  and  "  sire. " 

"  Look !"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  ground,  "  the  two  fatal  words 
heiv?  49t  vanished  away ;  the  sun  has  hardened  the  groimd,  and  they 


82         FREDERICK  THE  GRKiiT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

are  still  legible.  I  must  lift  them  from  the  sand,  and  wear  them 
henceforth  and  forever.  Give  me  your  hand,  Balby  ;  the  poor  mu- 
sician, Frederick  ZoUer,  will  bid  farewell  to  his  friend,  and  not  only 
to  you,  Balby,  but  farewell  also  to  my  youth.  This  is  my  last  youth- 
ful adventure.  Now,  I  shall  grow  old  and  cold  gracefully.  One 
thing  I  wish  to  say  before  I  resume  my  royalty ;  confidentially,  I 
am  not  entirely  displeased  with  the  change.  It  seems  to  me  diffi- 
cult to  fill  the  rdle  of  a  common  man.  Men  do  not  seem  to  love  and 
trust  each  other  fully  ;  a  man  avenges  himself  on  an  innocent  party 
for  the  wrongs  another  has  committed.  Besides,  I  do  not  rightly 
understand  the  politenesses  of  common  life,  and,  therefore,  received 
many  reproaches.  I  believe,  on  the  whole,  it  is  easier  to  bestow 
than  to  receive  them.     Therefore,  I  take  up  my  crown  willingly. " 

"Will  your  majesty  allow  me  a  word?"  said  Deesen,  stepping 
forward. 

"Speak,  Deesen." 

"  I  thank  Mr.  ZoUer  for  saving  my  life.  As  true  as  God  lives,  I 
should  have  stifled  with  rage  if  I  had  not  told  that  haughty  Hol- 
lander who  Mr.  ZoUer  was  and  who  I  was. " 

"Now,  forward  I  Farewell,  Frederick  Zoller!  Now  I  am  on 
Prussian  soil,  the  hour  of  thoughtless  happiness  is  passed.  I  fear, 
Balby,  that  the  solemn  duties  of  life  will  soon  take  possession  of  us. 
So  be  it !  I  accept  my  destiny — I  am  again  Frederick  of  Hohenzol- 
lern !" 

"  And  I  have  the  honor  to  be  the  first  to  greet  your  majesty  on 
your  own  domain, "  said  Balby,  as  he  bowed  profoundly  before  the 
king. 


BOOK  11. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE  UNHAPPY  NEWS. 

The  Princess  Amelia  was  alone  in  her  room.  She  was  stretched 
upon  a  sofa,  lost  in  deep  thought ;  her  eyes  were  raised  to  heaven, 
and  her  lips  trembled  ;  from  time  to  time  they  murmured  a  word  of 
complaint  or  of  entreaty. 

Amelia  was  ill.  She  had  been  ill  since  that  unhappy  day  in 
which  she  intentionally  destroyed  her  beauty  to  save  herself  from 
a  hated  marriage.*  Her  eyes  had  never  recovered  their  glance  or 
early  fire ;  they  were  always  inflamed  and  veiled  by  tears.  Her 
voice  had  lost  its  metallic  ring  and  youthful  freshness  ;  it  sounded 
from  her  aching  and  hollow  chest  like  sighs  from  a  lonely  grave. 
Severe  pain  from  time  to  time  tortured  her  whole  body,  and  con- 
tracted her  limbs  with  agonizing  cramps.  She  had  the  appearance 
of  a  woman  of  sixty  years  of  age,  who  was  tottering  to  the  grave. 

In  this  crushed  and  trembling  body  dwelt  a  strong,  powerful, 
healthy  soul ;  this  shrunken,  contracted  bosom  was  animated  by 
a  youthful,  ardent,  passionate  heart.  This  heart  had  consecrated 
itself  to  the  love  of  its  early  years  with  an  obstinate  and  feverish 
power. 

In  wild  defiance  against  her  fate,  Amelia  had  sworn  never  to 
yield,  never  to  break  faith  ;  to  bear  all,  to  suffer  all  for  her  love,  and 
to  press  onward  with  unshaken  resignation  but  never -failing  courage 
through  the  storms  and  agonies  of  a  desolate,  misunderstood,  and 
wi-etched  existence.  She  was  a  martyr  to  her  birth  and  her  love  ; 
she  accepted  this  martyrdom  with  defiant  self-reliance  and  joyful, 
resignation. 

Years  had  passed  since  she  had  seen  Trenck,  but  she  loved  him 
still !  She  knew  he  had  not  guarded  the  faith  they  had  mutually 
sworn  with  the  constancy  that  she  had  religiously  maintained  ;  but 
she  loved  him  still  1  She  had  solemnly  sworn  to  her  brother  to  give 
up  the  foolish  and  fantastic  wish  of  becoming  the  wife  of  Trenck  ; 
but  she  loved  him  still !    She  might  not  live  for  him,  but  she  would 

♦  See  "  Berlin  and  Sans-Souci." 


U         JIIEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

suffer  for  him  ;  she  could  not  give  him  her  hand,  but  she  could  con- 
secrate tliought  and  soul  to  him.  In  imagination  she  was  his,  only 
his ;  he  had  a  holy,  an  imi)erishable  right  to  her.  Had  she  not 
sworn,  in  the  presence  of  God,  to  be  his  through  life  down  to  the 
borders  of  the  grave?  Tinily,  no  priest  had  blessed  them  ;  God  had 
been  their  priest,  and  had  united  them.  There  had  been  no  mortal 
witness  to  their  solemn  oaths,  but  the  pure  stai-s  were  present — with 
their  sparkling,  loving  eyes  they  had  looked  down  and  listened  to 
the  vows  she  had  exchanged  with  Trenck.  She  was  therefore  his — 
his  eternally !  He  had  a  sacred  claim  upon  her  constancy,  her  love, 
lier  forbearance,  and  her  forgiveness.  If  Trenck  had  wandered  from 
his  faith,  she  dared  not  follow  his  example ;  she  must  be  ever  ready 
to  listen  to  his  call,  and  give  him  the  aid  he  required. 

Amelia's  love  was  her  religion,  her  life's  strength,  her  life's  ob- 
ject ;  it  was  a  talisman  to  protect  and  give  strength  in  time  of 
need.  She  would  have  died  without  it;  she  lived  and  struggled 
with  her  grief  only  for  his  sake. 

This  was  a  wretched,  joyless  existence— a  never-ending  martyr- 
dom, a  never-ceasing  contest.  Amelia  stood  alone  and  unloved  in 
her  family,  feared  and  avoided  by  all  the  merry,  thoughtless, 
pleasure  seeking  circle.  In  her  sad  presence  they  shuddered  invol- 
untarily and  felt  chilled,  as  by  a  blast  from  the  grave.  She  was  an 
object  of  distrust  and  weariness  to  her  companions  and  servants,  an 
object  of  love  and  frank  affection  to  no  one. 

Mademoiselle  Ernestine  von  Haak  had  alone  remained  true  to 
her ;  but  she  had  man-ied,  and  gone  far  away  with  her  husband. 
Princess  Amelia  was  now  alone ;  there  was  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  express  her  sorrow  and  her  fears  ;  no  one  who  understood  her 
suppressed  agony,  or  who  spoke  one  word  of  consolation  or  sympatliy 
to  her  broken  heart. 

She  was  alone  in  the  world,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  steeled 
her  strength,  and  made  an  impenetrable  shield  for  her  wearied  soul. 
She  gave  herself  up  entirely  to  her  thoughts  and  dreams.  She  lived 
a  strange,  enchanted,  double  life  and  twofold  existence.  Outwardly, 
she  was  old,  crushed,  ill ;  her  interior  life  was  young,  fresh,  glow- 
ing, and  energetic,  endowed  with  unshaken  power,  and  tempered  in 
the  fire  of  her  great  grief.  Amelia  lay  upon  the  divan  and  looked 
dreamily  toward  heaven.  A  strange  and  unaccountable  presenti- 
ment was  upon  her ;  she  trembled  with  mysterious  forebodings.  She 
had  always  felt  thus  when  any  new  misfortunes  were  about  to  befall 
Trenck.  It  seemed  as  if  her  soul  was  bound  to  his,  and  by  means  of 
an  electric  current  she  felt  the  blow  in  the  same  moment  that  it  fell 
upon  him. 

The  princess  believed  in  these  presentiments.    She  had  faith  ia 


TECE  UNHAPPY  NEWS.  85 

dreams  and  prophecies,  as  do  all  those  unhappy  beings  to  whom  fate 
has  denied  real  happiness,  and  who  seek  -wildly  in  fantastic  visions 
for  compensation.  She  loved,  therefore,  to  look  into  the  future 
through  fortune-tellers  and  dark  oracles,  and  thus  prepare  herself  for 
the  sad  events  which  lay  before  her.  The  day  before,  the  renowned 
astrologer  Pfannenstein  had  warned  her  of  approaching  peril ;  he  de- 
clared that  a  cloud  of  tears  was  in  the  act  of  bursting  upon  her ! 
Princess  Amelia  believed  in  his  words,  and  waited  with  a  bold, 
resolved  spirit  for  the  breaking  of  the  cloud,  whose  gray  veil  she 
already  felt  to  be  round  about  her. 

These  sad  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  light  knock  upon  the 
door,  and  her  maid  entered  and  announced  that  the  master  of  cere- 
monies, Baron  PoUnitz,  craved  an  audience. 

Amelia  shuddered,  but  roused  herself  quickly.  "  Let  him  enter !" 
she  said,  hastily.  The  short  moment  of  expectation  seemed  an  eter- 
nity of  anguish.  She  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  heart,  to  still  its 
stormy  beatings  ;  she  looked  with  staring,  wide-opened  eyes  toward 
the  door  through  which  Pollnitz  must  enter,  and  she  shuddered  as 
she  looked  upon  the  ever-smiling,  immovable  face  of  the  courtier, 
who  now  entered  her  boudoir,  with  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz  at 
his  side. 

"  Do  you  know,  Pollnitz, "  said  she,  in  a  rough,  imperious  tone — 
"do  you  know  I  believe  your  face  is  not  flesh  and  blood,  but  hewn 
from  stone  ;  or,  at  least,  one  day  it  was  petrified?  Perhaps  the  fatal 
hour  struck  one  day,  just  as  you  were  laughing  over  some  of  your 
villanies,  and  your  smile  was  turned  to  stone  as  a  judgment.  I  shall 
know  this  look  as  long  as  I  live  ;  it  is  ever  most  clearly  marked  upon 
your  visage,  when  you  have  some  misfortune  to  announce. " 

"  Then  this  stony  smile  must  have  but  little  expression  to-day, 
for  I  do  not  come  as  a  messenger  of  evil  tidings  ;  but  if  your  roj'al 
highness  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  as  a  sort  of  postilion  d' amour. " 

Amelia  shrank  back  for  a  moment,  gave  one  glance  toward 
Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz,  whom  she  knew  full  well  to  be  the 
■watchful  spy  of  her  mother,  and  whose  daily  duty  it  was  to  relate 
to  the  queen-mother  every  thing  which  took  place  in  the  apartment 
of  the  princess.  She  knew  that  every  word  and  look  of  Pollnitz  waa 
examined  with  the  strictest  attention. 

Pollnitz,  however,  spoke  on  with  cool  self-possession  : 

"You  look  astonished,  princess;  it  perhaps  appears  to  you  that 
this  impassive  face  is  little  suited  to  the  rdle  oi  postilion  d' amour, 
and  yet  that  is  my  position,  and  I  ask  your  highness's  permission  to 
make  known  my  errand. " 

"I  refuse  your  request, "  said  Amelia,  roughly;  "I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  Love,  and  find  his  godship  as  old  and  dull  as  the  messen- 


86  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ger  he  has  gent  me.  Go  back,  then,  to  your  blind  god,  and  tell  him 
that  my  ears  are  deaf  to  his  love  greeting,  and  the  screeching  of  the 
raven  is  more  melodious  than  the  tenderest  words  a  Pollnitz  can 
utter." 

The  princess  said  this  in  her  most  repulsive  tone.  She  was  accus- 
tomed to  shield  herself  in  this  rude  manner  from  all  approach  or 
contact,  and,  indeed,  she  attained  her  object.  She  was  feared  and 
avoided.  Her  witty  bon  mots  and  stinging  jests  were  repeated  and 
merrily  laughed  over,  but  the  world  knew  that  she  scattered  her 
sarcasms  far  and  wide,  in  order  to  secure  her  isolation ;  to  banish 
every  one  from  her  presence,  so  that  none  might  hear  her  sighs,  or 
read  her  sad  history  in  her  countenance. 

"And  yet,  princess,  I  must  still  implore  a  hearing,"  said  he, 
with  imi)erturbable  good-humor ;  "  if  my  voice  is  rough  as  the 
raven's,  your  royal  highness  must  feed  me  with  sugar,  and  it  will 
become  soft  and  tender  as  an  innocent  maiden's. " 

"I  think  a  few  ducats  would  be  better  for  your  case,"  said 
Amelia;  "a  Pollnitz  is  not  to  be  won  with  sweets,  but  for  gold  he 
would  follow  the  devil  to  the  lower  regions. " 

"You  are  right,  princess  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  go  to  heaven,  but  be- 
low ;  there  I  am  certain  to  find  the  best  and  most  interesting  society. 
The  genial  people  are  all  bom  devils,  and  your  highness  has  ever 
confessed  that  I  am  genial.  Then  let  it  be  so !  I  will  accept  the 
ducats  which  your  royal  highness  think  good  for  me,  and  now  allow 
me  to  discharge  my  duty.  I  come  as  the  messenger  of  Prince 
Henry.  He  sends  his  heart-felt  greetings  to  his  royal  sister,  and 
begs  that  she  will  do  him  the  honor  to  attend  a.  fete  at  Rheinsberg, 
which  will  take  place  in  eight  days. " 

"  Has  the  master  of  ceremonies  of  the  king  become  the  fourrier 
of  Prince  Henry?"  said  Amelia. 

"  No,  princess  ;  I  occasionally  and  accidentally  perform  the  func- 
tion of  &  fourrier.  This  invitation  was  not  my  principal  object  to- 
day." 

" I  knew  it, "  said  Amelia,  ironically.  "My  brother  Henry  does 
not  love  me  well  enough  to  invite  me  to  this  f^te,  if  he  had  not  some 
other  object  to  attain.     Well,  what  does  Prince  Henry  wish?" 

"  A  small  favor,  your  royal  highness ;  he  wishes,  on  the  birth- 
day of  his  wife,  to  have  Voltaire's  'Rome  Sauvee'  given  by  the 
French  tragedians.  Some  years  since  your  highness  had  a  great 
triumph  in  this  piece.  The  prince  remembers  that  Voltaire  pre- 
pared the  r6le  of  Aurelia  especially  for  you,  with  changes  and  addi- 
tions, and  he  entreats  you,  through  me,  the  temporary  Directeur  des 
spectacles  de  Rheinsberg,  to  lend  him  this  rdle  for  the  use  of  his 
performer. " 


THE  lJNHAI»f»Y  NEWS.  8t 

"Why  does  not  my  brother  rather  entreat  nae  to  take  this  part 
myself?"  said  Amelia,  in  cruel  mockery  over  herself.  "It  appears 
to  me  I  could  look  the  part  of  Aurelia,  and  my  soft,  flute-like  voice 
would  make  a  powerful  impression  upon  the  public.  It  is  cruel  of 
Prince  Henry  to  demand  this  rdle  of  me  ;  it  might  be  inferred  that 
he  thought  I  had  become  old  and  ugly. " 

"Not  so,  your  highness  ;  the  tragedy  is  to  be  performed  on  this 
occasion  by  public  actors,  and  not  bj-^  amateurs." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Amelia,  suddenly  becoming  grave;  "at 
that  time  we  were  amateurs,  lovers  of  the  drama ;  our  dreams  are 
over — we  live  in  realities  now. " 

"Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz,  have  the  goodness  to  bring  the 
manuscript  my  brother  wishes ;  it  is  partly  written  by  Voltaire's 
own  hand.     You  will  find  it  in  the  bureau  in  my  dressing-room." 

Mademoiselle  Marwitz  withdrew  to  get  the  manuscript ;  as  she 
left  the  room,  she  looked  back  suspiciously  at  PoUnitz  and,  as  if  by 
accident,  left  the  door  open  which  led  to  the  dressing-room. 

Mademoiselle  Marwitz  had  scarcely  disappeared,  before  Pollnitz 
sprang  forward,  with  youthful  agility,  and  closed  the  door. 

"Princess,  this  commission  of  Prince  Henry's  was  only  a  pre- 
text. I  took  this  order  from  the  princess's  maitre  d'hCtel  in  order 
to  approach  your  highness  unnoticed,  and  to  get  rid  of  the  watchful 
eyes  of  your  Marwitz.  Now  listen  well ;  Weingarten,  the  Austrian 
secretary  of  Legation,  was  with  me  to-day." 

"  Ah,  Weingarten, "  murmured  the  princess,  tremblingly  ;  "  he 
gave  you  a  letter  for  me  ;  quick,  quick,  give  it  to  me. " 

"  No,  he  gave  me  no  letter  ;  it  appears  that  he,  who  formerly  sent 
letters,  is  no  longer  in  the  condition  to  do  so. " 

"  He  is  dead  1"  cried  Amelia  with  horror,  and  sank  back  as  if 
struck  by  lightning. 

"No,  princess,  he  is  not  dead,  but  in  great  danger.  It  appears 
that  Weingarten  is  in  great  need  of  money ;  for  a  hundred  louis 
d'or,  which  I  promised  him,  he  confided  to  me  that  Trenck's  ene- 
mies had  excited  the  suspicions  of  the  king  against  him,  and  de- 
claj'ed  that  Trenck  had  designs  against  the  life  of  Frederick. " 

"  The  miserable  liars  and  slanderers  I"  cried  Amelia,  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  The  king,  as  it  appears,  believes  in  these  charges ;  he  has  writ- 
ten to  his  resident  minister  to  demand  of  the  senate  of  Dantzic  the 
deliveiy  of  Trenck. "  \ 

"  Trenck  is  not  in  Dantzic,  but  in  Vienna. " 

"  He  is  in  Dantzic — or,  rather,  he  was  there. " 

"And  now?" 

"Now,"  said  Pollnitz,  solemnly,  "he  is  on  the  way  to  Konigs- 


88.         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

berg ;  from  that  point  he  will  be  transported  to  some  other  fortress ; 
first,  however,  he  will  be  brought  to  Berlin. " 

The  unhappy  princess  uttered  a  shriek,  which  sounded  like  a 
wild  death-cry.     "He  is,  then,  a  prisoner?" 

"  Yes  ;  but,  on  his  way  to  prison,  so  long  as  he  does  not  cross  the 
threshold  of  the  fortress,  it  is  possible  to  deliver  him.  Weingarten, 
who,  it  appears  to  me,  is  much  devoted  to  your  highnes.s,  has  drawn 
for  me  the  plan  of  the  route  Trenck  is  to  take.  Here  it  is. "  He 
handed  the  princess  a  small  piece  of  paper,  which  she  seized  with 
trembling  hands,  and  read  hastily. 

"  He  <;omes  through  Coslin, "  said  she,  joyfully  ;  "  that  gives  a 
chance  of  safety  in  C6slin !  The  Duke  of  Wurteraberg,  the  friend 
of  my  youthful  days,  is  in  CSslin ;  he  will  assist  me.  PSllnitz, 
quick,  quick,  find  me  a  courier  who  will  caiTy  a  letter  to  the  duke 
for  me  without  delay. " 

"That  will  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,"  said  Pflllnitz,  thought- 
fully. 

Amelia  sprang  from  her  seat;  her  eyes  had  the  old  fire,  her 
features  their  youthful  expression  and  elasticity. 

The  power  and  ardor  of  her  soul  overcame  the  weakness  of  her 
body  ;  it  found  energy  and  strength. 

"  Well,  then, "  said  she,  decisively,  and  even  her  voice  was  firm 
and  soft,  "  I  will  go  myself ;  and  woe  to  him  who  dares  withhold 
me !  I  have  been  ordered  to  take  sea- baths.  I  will  go  this  hour  to 
CSslin  for  that  purpose !  but  no,  no,  I  cannot  travel  so  rashly.  P611- 
nitz,  you  must  find  me  a  courier." 

"  I  will  ti-y, "  said  PSUnitz.  "  One  can  buy  all  the  glories  of  this 
world  for  gold ;  and,  I  think,  your  highness  will  not  regard  a  few 
louis  d'or,  more  or  less. " 

"  Find  me  a  messenger,  and  I  will  pay  every  hour  of  his  journey 
with  a  gold  piece. " 

"I  will  send  my  own  servant;  in  half  an  hour  he  shall  be 
ready. " 

"  God  be  thanked !  it  will,  then,  be  'possible  to  save  him.  Let 
me  write  this  letter  at  once,  and  hasten  your  messenger.  Let  him 
fly  as  if  he  had  wings — as  if  the  wild  winds  of  heaven  bore  him  on- 
ward. The  sooner  he  brings  me  the  answer  of  the  duke,  the  greater 
shall  be  his  reward.  Oh,  I  will  reward  him  as  if  I  were  a  rich 
qupen.  and  not  a  poor,  forsaken,  sorrowful  princess. " 

"Write,  princess,  write,"  cried  Pollnitz,  eagerly;  "but  no,  have 
the  gootlness  to  give  me  the  hundred  louis  d'or  before  Mademoiselle 
Marwitz  returns.  I  promised  them  to  Weingarten  for  his  news ; 
you  can  add  to  them  the  ducats  you  were  graciously  pleased  to  be- 
stow upon  me. " 


THE  UNHAPPY  NEWS.  89 

Amelia  did  not  reply ;  she  stepped  to  the  table  and  wrote  a  few 
lines,  which  she  handed  to  PoUnitz. 

"  Take  this, "  said  she,  almost  contemptuously ;  "  it  is  a  draft 
upon  my  banker,  Orguelin.  I  thank  you  for  allowing  your  services 
to  be  paid  for ;  it  relieves  me  from  all  call  to  gratitude.  Serve  me 
faithfully  in  future,  and  you  shall  ever  find  my  hand  open  and  my 
purse  full.     And  now  give  me  time  to  write  to  the  duke,  and—" 

•'  Princess,  I  hear  Mademoiselle  Marwitz  returning  !" 

Amelia  left  the  writing-table  hastily,  and  advanced  to  the  door 
through  which  Mademoiselle  Marwitz  must  enter. 

**  Ah,  you  are  come  at  last, "  said  she,  as  the  door  opened.  "  I 
was  about  to  seek  you.     I  feared  you  could  not  find  the  paper. " 

"  It  was  very  difficult  to  find  amongst  such  a  mass  of  letters  and 
papers,"  said  Mademoiselle  Marwitz,  whose  suspicious  glance  was 
now  wandering  round  the  room.  "  I  succeeded,  however,  at  last ; 
here  is  the  manuscript,  your  highness. " 

The  princess  took  it  and  examined  it  carefully.  "Ah,  I  thought 
so, "  she  said.  "  A  monologue  which  Voltaire  wrote  for  me,  is  miss- 
ing. I  gave  it  to  the  king,  and  I  see  he  has  not  returned  it.  I  think 
my  memory  is  the  only  faculty  which  retains  its  power.  It  is  my 
misfortune  that  I  cannot  forget !  I  will  test  it  to-day  and  tiy  to 
write  this  monologue  from  memory.  I  must  be  alone,  however.  I 
pray  you,  mademoiselle,  to  go  into  the  saloon  with  Pollnitz  ;  he  can 
entertain  you  with  the  CTironique  Scandaleuse  of  our  most  virtuous 
coui-t,  while  I  am  writing.  — And  now, "  said  she,  when  she  found 
herself  alone,  "  may  God  give  me  power  to  reach  the  heart  of  the 
duke,  and  win  him  to  my  purpose  !" 

With  a  firm  hand  she  wrote  : 

"Because  you  are  happy,  duke,  you  will  have  pity  for  the 
wretched.  For  a  few  days  past,  you  have  had  your  young  and 
lovely  wife  at  your  side,  and  experienced  the  pure  bliss  of  a  happy 
union  ;  you  will  therefore  comprehend  the  despair  of  those  who  love 
as  fondly,  and  can  never  be  united.  And  now,  I  would  remind  you 
of  a  day  on  which  it  was  in  my  power  to  obtain  for  you  a  great 
favor  from  my  brother  the  king.  At  that  time  you  promised  me  to 
return  this  service  tenfold,  should  it  ever  be  in  your  power,  and  you 
made  me  promise,  if  I  should  ever  need  assistance,  to  turn  to  you 
alone  !  My  hour  has  come  !  I  need  your  help  ;  not  for  myself !  God 
and  death  alone  can  help  me.  I  demand  your  aid  for  a  man  who  is 
chained  with  me  to  the  galleys.  You  know  him — have  mercy  upon 
him  !  Perhaps  he  will  arrive  at  your  court  in  the  same  hour  with 
my  letter.  Duke,  will  you  be  the  jailer  of  the  wretched  and  the 
powerless,  who  is  imprisoned  only  because  I  am  the  daughter  of  a 
king?    Are  your  officers  constables?  will  you  allow  them  to  cast 

r 


90         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

into  an  eternal  prison  him  for  whom  I  have  wept  night  and  day  for 
many  long  yeai-s? 

"Oh,  my  God!  my  God!  you  have  given  wings  to  the  birds  of 
the  air  ;  you  have  given  to  the  horse  his  fiery  speed ;  you  have  de- 
clared that  man  is  the  king  of  creation  ;  you  have  marked  .upon  his 
brow  the  seal  of  freedom,  and  this  is  his  holiest  possession.  Oh, 
friend,  will  you  consent  that  a  noble  gentleman,  who  has  nothing 
left  but  his  freedom,  shall  be  unju.stly  deprived  of  it !  Duke,  I  call 
upon  you !  Be  a  providence  for  my  unhappy  friend,  and  set  him 
at  lil^erty.  And  through  my  whole  life  long  I  will  bless  and  honor 
you !  Amelia.  " 

"  If  he  does  not  listen  to  this  outcry  of  my  soul, "  she  whispered, 
as  she  folded  and  sealed  the  letter — "  if  he  has  the  cruelty  to  let  me 
plead  in  vain,  then  in  my  death-hour  I  will  curse  him,  and  charge 
him  with  being  the  murderer  of  ray  last  hope  !" 

The  princess  called  PoUnitz,  and,  with  an  expressive  glance,  she 
handed  him  the  letter. 

"  Truly,  my  memory  has  not  failed  me, "  she  said  to  Mademoiselle 
Marwitz,  who  entered  behind  PoUnitz,  and  whose  sharp  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  letter  in  the  baron's  hand.  "I  have  been  able  to 
write  the  whole  monologue.  Give  tliis  paper  to  my  brother,  PoU- 
nitz ;  I  have  added  a  few  friendly  lines,  and  excused  myself  for  de- 
clining the  invitation.     I  cannot  see  this  drama. " 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me  I  have  made  a  lucrative  aflfair  of  this, " 
said  PoUnitz  to  himself,  as  he  left  the  princess.  "  I  promised  Wein- 
garten  only  fifty  louis  d'or,  so  fifty  remain  over  for  myself,  without 
counting  the  ducats  which  the  princess  intends  for  me.  Besides,  I 
shall  be  no  such  fool  as  to  give  my  servant,  who  steals  from  me 
every  day,  the  reward  the  princess  has  set  apart  for  him  ;  and  if  I 
give  him  outside  work  to  do,  it  is  my  opportimity ;  he  is  mj'  slave, 
and  the  reward  is  properly  mine." 

"Listen,  John!"  said  PoUnitz  to  his  servant,  as  he  entered  his 
apartment.  Poor  John  was,  at  the  same  time,  body-servant,  jockey, 
and  coachman.  "  Listen ;  do  you  know  exactly  how  much  you  have 
loaned  me?" 

"  To  a  copper,  your  excellency, "  said  John,  joyfully.  Poor  John 
thought  that  the  hour  of  settlement  had  come.  "  Your  excellency 
owes  me  fifty-three  thalers,  four  groschen,  and  five  pennies." 

"Common  soul,"  cried  PoUnitz,  shrugging  his  shoulders  con- 
temptuously, "  to  be  able  to  keep  in  remembrance  such  pitiful  things 
as  groschen  and  coppers.  Well,  I  have  a  most  pressing  and  impor- 
tant commission  for  you.  You  must  saddle  your  horse  immediately, 
and  hasten  to  deliver  this  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg.  You 
roust  ride  night  and  day  and  not  rest  till  you  arrive  and  deliver  thia 


THE  UNHAPPY  NEWS.  91 

packet  into  the  duke's  own  hands.  I  will  then  allow  you  a  day's 
rest  for  yourself  and  horse ;  your  return  must  be  equally  rapid.  If 
you  are  here  again  in  eight  days,  I  will  reward  you  royally. " 

"  That  is  to  say,  your  excellency — "  said  John,  in  breathless  ex- 
pectation. 

"  That  is  to  say,  I  will  pay  you  half  the  sum  I  owe  you,  if  you 
are  here  in  eight  days ;  if  you  are  absent  longer,  you  will  get  only  a 
third." 

"And -if  I  retiurn  a  day  earlier?"  said  John,  sighing. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  few  extra  thalers  as  a  reward, "  said  PoUnitz. 

"  But  your  excellency  will,  besides  this,  give  me  money  for  the 
journey,"  said  John,  timidly. 

"Miserable,  shameless  beggar  !"  cried  Pollnitz ;  "always demand- 
ing more  than  one  is  willing  to  accord  you.  Learn  from  your  noble 
master  that  there  is  nothing  more  pitiful,  more  sordid  than  gold, 
and  that  those  only  are  truly  noble  who  serve  others  for  honor's 
sake,  and  give  no  thought  to  reward. " 

"  But,  your  grace,  I  have  already  the  honor  to  have  lent  you  all 
my  money.  I  have  not  even  a  groschen  to  buy  food  for  myself  and 
horse  on  my  journey. " 

"As  for  your  money,  sir,  it  is,  under  all  circmnstances,  much 
safer  with  me  than  with  you.  You  would  surely  spend  it  foolishly, 
while  I  will  keep  it  together.  Besides  this,  there  is  no  other  way  to 
make  servants  faithful  and  submissive  but  to  bind  them  to  you  by 
the  miserable  bond  of  selfishness.  You  would  have  left  me  a  hun- 
dred times,  if  you  had  not  been  tied  down  by  your  own  pitiful 
interests.  You  know  well  that  if  you  leave  me  witliout  my  permis- 
sion, the  law  allows  me  to  punish  you,  by  giving  the  money  I  owe 
you  to  the  poor.  But  enough  of  foolish  talking !  Make  ready  for 
the  journey ;  in  half  an  hour  you  must  leave  Berlin  behind  you.  I 
will  give  you  a  few  thalers  to  buy  food .  Now,  hasten !  Remember, 
if  you  remain  away  longer  than  eight  days,  I  will  give  you  only  a 
third  of  the  money  I  am  keeping  for  you. " 

Tliis  terrible  threat  had  its  effect  upon  poor  John. 

In  eight  days  Pollnitz  sought  the  princess,  and  with  a  triumphant 
glance,  slipped  a  letter  into  her  hand,  which  read  thus  : 

"  I  thank  you,  princess,  that  you  have  remembered  me,  and  given 
me  an  opportunity  to  aid  the  unhappy.  You  are  right.  God  made 
man  to  be  free.  I  am  no  jailer,  and  my  officers  are  not  constables. 
They  have,  indeed,  the  duty  to  conduct  the  unhappy  man  who  has 
been  for  three  days  the  guest  of  my  house,  further  on  toward  the 
fortress,  but  his  feet  and  his  hands  shall  be  free,  and  if  he  takes  a 
lesson  from  the  bird  in  velocity,  and  from  the  wild  horse  in  speed, 
his  present  escape  will  cost  him  less  than  his  flight  from  Glatz.    My 


92  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

officers  cannot  be  always  on  the  watch,  and  God's  world  is  large ; 
it  is  impossible  to  guard  every  point  My  soldiers  accompany  him 
to  the  brook  Coslin.  I  commend  the  officer  who  will  be  discharged 
for  neglect  of  duty  to  your  highness.  Ferdinand.  " 

"  He  wiU  have  my  help  and  my  eternal  gratitude, "  whispered 
Amelia ;  she  then  pressed  the  letter  of  the  duke  passsonately  to  her 
lips.  "Oh,  my  God!  I  feel  to-day  what  I  have  never  before 
thought  possible,  that  one  can  be  happy  without  happiness.  If  fate 
will  be  merciful,  and  not  thwart  the  noble  purpose  of  Duke  Ferdi- 
nand, from  this  time  onward  I  will  never  murmur — never  complain. 
I  will  demand  nothing  of  the  future  ;  never  more  to  see  him,  never 
more  to  hear  from  him,  only  that  he  may  be  free  and  happy. " 

In  the  joy  of  her  heart  she  not  only  fulfilled  her  promise  to  give 
the  messenger  a  gold  piece  for  every  hour  of  his  journey,  but  she 
added  a  costly  diamond  pin  for  Pollnitz,  which  the  experienced 
baron,  even  while  receiving  it  from  the  trembling  hand  of  the  prin- 
cess, valued  at  fifty  louis  d'or. 

The  baron  returned  with  a  well-filled  purse  and  a  diamond  pin  to 
his  dwelling,  and  with  imposing  solemnity  he  called  John  into  his 
boudoir. 

"  John, "  said  he,  "  I  am  content  with  you.  You  have  promptly 
fulfilled  my  commands.  You  returned  the  seventh  day,  and  have 
earned  the  extra  thalers.  As  for  your  money,  how  much  do  I  owe 
you?" 

"  Fifty-three  thalers,  four  groschen,  and  five  pennies. " 

"And  the  half  of  this  is—" 

"Twenty-seven  thalers,  fourteen  groschen,  two  and  a  half  pen- 
nies," said  John,  with  a  loudly  beating  lieart  and  an  expectant 
smile.  He  saw  that  the  piu^e  was  well  filled,  and  that  his  master 
was  taking  out  the  gold  pieces. " 

"I  will  give  you,  including  your  extra  guldens,  twenty-eight 
thalers,  fourteen  groschen,  two  and  a  half  pennies, "  said  Pollnitz, 
laying  some  gold  pieces  on  the  table.  "Here  are  six  louis  d'or,  or 
thirty-six  thalers  in  gold  to  reckon  up ;  the  fractions  you  claim  are 
beneath  my  dignity.     Take  them,  John,  they  are  yours." 

John  uttered  a  cry  of  rapture,  and  sprang  forward  with  out- 
stretched hands  to  seize  his  gold.  He  had  succeeded  in  gatliering 
up  three  louis  d'or,  when  the  powerful  hand  of  the  baron  seized  him 
and  held  him  back. 

"  John, "  said  he,  "  I  read  in  your  wild,  disordered  countenance 
that  you  are  a  spendthrift,  and  this  gold,  which  you  have  earned 
honestly,  will  soon  be  wasted  in  boundless  follies.  It  is  my  duty, 
as  your  conscientious  master  and  friend,  to  prevent  this.  I  cannot 
allow  you  to  take  all  of  tbi?  money— gply  Qseh^lf ;  only  three  louis 


TRENCK  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  PM90N.  93 

d'or.  I  will  put  the  other  three  with  the  sum  which  I  still  hold, 
and  take  care  of  it  for  you. " 

With  an  appearance  of  firm  principle  and  piety,  he  grasped  the 
three  louis  d'or  upon  which  the  sighing  John  fixed  his  tearful  eyes. 

"And  now,  what  is  the  amount,"  said  PoUnitz,  gravely,  "which 
you  have  placed  in  my  hands  for  safe-keeping?" 

"  Thirty-two  thalers,  fourteen  groschen,  and  five  pennies, "  said 
John ;  "and  then  the  fractions  from  the  three  louis  d'ors  makes  a 
thaler  and  eiglit  groschen. " 

"  Pitiful  miser !  You  dare  to  reckon  fractions  against  your  mas- 
ter, who,  in  his  magnanimity,  has  just  presented  you  with  gold  I 
This  is  a  meanness  which  merits  exemplary  punishment. " 


CHAPTER   II. 

TRENCK  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  PRISON. 

Before  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  in  Coslin,  stood 
the  light,  open  carriage  in  which  the  duke  was  accustomed  to  make 
excursions,  when  inclined  to  carry  the  reins  himself,  and  enjoy 
freedom  and  the  pure,  fresh  air,  without  etiquette  and  ceremony. 

To-day,  however,  the  carriage  was  not  intended  for  an  ordinary 
excursion,  but  to  transport  a  prisoner.  This  prisoner  was  no  other 
than  the  unhappy  Frederick  Trenck,  whom  the  cowardly  republic  of 
Dantzic,  terrified  at  the  menaces  of  the  king,  had  delivered  up  to 
the  Prussian  police. 

The  intelligence  of  his  unhappy  fate  flew  like  a  herald  before 
him.  He  was  guarded  by  twelve  hussars,  and  the  sad  procession  was 
received  everywhere  throughout  the  journey  with  kindly  sympathy. 
All  exerted  themselves  to  give  undoubted  proofs  of  pity  and  consid- 
eration. Even  the  officers  in  command,  who  sat  by  him  in  the  car- 
riage, and  who  were  changed  at  every  station,  treated  him  as  a 
loved  comrade  in  arms,  and  not  as  a  state  prisoner. 

But  while  all  sighed  and  trembled  for  him,  Trenck  alone  was 
gay ;  his  countenance  alone  was  calm  and  courageous.  Not  one 
moment,  during  the  three  days  he  passed  in  the  palace  of  the  duke, 
was  his  youthful  and  handsome  face  clouded  by  a  single  shadow. 
Not  one  moment  did  that  happy,  cheerful  manner,  by  which  he  won 
all  hearts,  desert  him.  At  the  table,  he  was  the  brightest  and  witti- 
est; his  amusing  nan-atives,  anecdotes,  and  droll  ideas  made  not 
only  the  duke,  but  the  duchess  and  her  maids,  laugh  merrily.  In 
the  afternoons,  in  the  saloon  of  the  duchess,  he  astonished  and  en- 
raptured the  whole   court  circle  by  improvising  upon  any  given 


9i         FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AlS^D  Hm  FAMILY. 

theme,  and  by  the  tasteful  and  artistic  manner  in  which  he  sang 
the  national  ballads  he  had  learned  on  his  journeys  through  Italy, 
Germany,  and  Ritssia.  At  other  times,  he  conversed  with  the  duke 
upon  philosophy  and  state  policy  ;  and  he  was  amazed  at  the  varied 
information  and  wisdom  of  this  young  man,  who  seemed  an  experi- 
enced soldier  and  an  adroit  diplomat,  a  profound  statesman,  and  a 
learned  historian.  By  his  dazzling  talents,  he  not  only  interested 
but  enchained  his  listeners. 

The  duke  felt  sadly  that  it  was  not  possible  to  retain  the  prisoner 
longer  in  Coslin.  Three  days  of  rest  was  the  utmost  that  could  be 
granted  Trenck,  without  exciting  suspicion.  He  sighed,  as  he  told 
Trenck  that  his  duty  required  of  him  to  send  him  further  on  his  dark 
journey. 

Trenck  received  this  announcement  with  perfect  composure, 
with  calm  self-possession.  He  took  leave  of  the  duke  and  duchess, 
and  thanked  them  gayly  for  their  gracious  reception. 

"  I  hope  that  my  imprisonment  will  be  of  short  duration,  and  then 
your  highness  will,  I  trust,  allow  me  to  return  to  you,  and  ofifer  the 
thanks  of  a  free  man. " 

"  May  we  soon  meet  again  !"  said  the  duke,  and  he  looked  search- 
ingly  upon  Trenck,  as  if  he  wished  to  read  his  innermost  thoughts. 
"  As  soon  as  you  are  free,  come  to  me.  I  will  not  forsake  you,  no 
matter  under  what  circumstances  you  obtain  your  freedom. " 

Had  Trenck  observed  the  last  emphatic  words  of  the  duke,  and 
did  he  understand  their  meaning?  The  duke  did  not  know.  No 
wink  of  the  eyelid,  not  the  slightest  sign,  gave  evidence  that  Trenck 
had  noticed  their  significance,  He  bowed  smilingly,  left  the  room 
with  a  firm  step,  and  entered  the  carriage. 

The  duke  called  back  the  ordnance  officer  who  was  to  conduct 
him  to  the  next  station. 

"You  have  not  forgotten  my  command?"  said  he. 

"  No,  your  highness,  I  have  not  forgotten ;  and  obedience  is  a 
joyful  duty,  which  I  will  perform  punctually. " 

"You  will  repeat  this  command,  in  my  name,  to  tlie  officer  at 
the  next  station,  and  commission  him  to  have  it  repeated  at  every 
station  where  my  regiments  are  quartered.  Every  one  shall  give 
Trenck  an  opportunity  to  escape,  but  silently  ;  no  word  must  be  spoken 
to  him  on  the  subject.  It  must  depend  upon  him  to  make  use  of 
the  most  favorable  moment.  My  intentions  toward  him  must  be 
understood  by  him  without  explanations.  He  who  is  so  unfortunate 
as  to  allow  the  prisoner  to  escape,  can  only  be  blamed  for  careless- 
ness in  duty.  Upon  me  alone  will  rest  the  responsibility  to  the 
King  of  Prussia.  You  shall  proceed  but  five  or  six  miles  each  day  ; 
at  this  rate  of  travel  it  will  take  four  days  to  reach  the  last  barracks 


TRENCK  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  PRISON.  95 

of  my  soldiers,  and  almost  the  entire  journey  lies  through  dark,  thick 
woods,  and  solitary  highways.     Now  go,  and  may  God  be  with  you  !" 

The  duke  stepped  to  the  window  to  see  Trenck  depart,  and  to 
give  him  a  last  gi'eeting. 

"  Well,  if  he  is  not  at  liberty  in  the  next  few  days,  it  will  surely 
not  be  my  fault, "  murmured  Duke  Ferdinand,  "  and  Princess  Amelia 
cannot  reproach  me. " 

As  Trenck  drove  from  the  gate,  Duke  Ferdinand  turned  thought- 
fully away.  He  was,  against  his  will,  oppressed  by  sad  presenti- 
ments. For  Trenck,  this  journey  over  the  highways  in  the  light, 
open  carriage,  was  actual  enjoyment.  He  inhaled  joyfully  the  pure, 
warm,  summer  air — his  eyes  rested  with  raptui'e  upon  the  waving 
corn-fields,  and  the  blooming,  fragrant  meadows  through  which 
they  passed.  With  gay  shouts  and  songs  he  seemed  to  rival  the  lark 
as  she  winged  her  way  into  the  clouds  above  him.  He  was  inno- 
cent, careless,  and  happy  as  a  child.  The  world  of  Nature  had  been 
shut  out  from  him  in  the  dark,  close  carriage  which  had  brought 
him  to  Coslin ;  she  greeted  him  now  with  glad  sniiles  and  gay 
adorning.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  decorated  for  him  with  her 
most  odorous  blossoms  and  most  glorious  sunshine — as  if  she  sent 
her  softest  breeze  to  kiss  his  cheek  and  whisper  love -greetings  in  his 
ear.  With  upturned,  dreamy  glance,  he  followed  the  graceful 
movements  of  the  pure,  white  clouds,  and  the  rapid  flight  of  the 
birds.  Trenck  was  so  happy  in  even  this  appearance  of  freedom, 
that  he  mistook  it  for  liberty. 

The  carriage  rolled  slowly  over  the  sandy  highways,  and  now 
entered  a  wood.  The  sweet  odor  of  the  fir-trees  drew  from  Trenck  a 
cry  of  rapture.  He  had  felt  the  heat  of  the  sun  to  be  oppressive, 
and  he  now  laid  his  head  back  under  the  shadow  of  the  thick  trees 
with  a  feeling  of  gladness. 

It  will  take  us  some  hours  to  get  through  this  forest,"  said  the 
ordnance  officer.  "It  is  one  of  the  thickest  woods  in  this  region, 
and  the  terror  of  the  police.  The  escaped  prisoner  who  succeeds  in 
concealing  himself  here,  may  defy  discovery.  It  is  impossible  to 
pursue  him  in  these  dark,  tangled  woods,  and  a  few  hours  conduct 
him  to  the  sea-shore,  where  there  are  ever  small  fishing-boats  ready 
to  receive  the  fugitive  and  place  him  safely  upon  some  passing  ship. 
But  excuse  me,  sir !  the  sun  has  been  blazing  down  so  hotly  upon 
my  head  that  I  feel  thoroughly  wearied,  and  will  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  my  coachman.  Look !  he  is  fast  asleep,  and  the  horses  are 
moving  on  of  their  own  good-will.     Good-night,  Baron  Trenck. " 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  in  a  short  time  his  loud  snores  and  the 
nodding  of  his  head  from  side  to  side  gave  assurs^ce  that  be,  alsQ, 
wft8  locked  i)a  plumber, 


96  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

Profound  stillness  reigned  around.  Trenck  gave  himself  wholly 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment.  The  peaceful  stillness  of  the 
forest,  interrupted  only  at  intervals  by  the  snorting  of  the  horses, 
the  sleepy  chatter  of  the  birds  among  the  dark  green  branches,  and 
the  soft  rustling  and  whispering  of  the  trees,  filled  him  with 
delight. 

"  It  is  clear, "  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  this  arrest  in  Dantzic  was 
only  a  manoeuvre  to  terrify  me.  I  rejected  the  proposal  of  the  Prus- 
sian ambassador  in  Vienna,  to  return  to  Berlin  and  enter  again  the 
Prussian  service,  so  the  king  wishes  to  punish  and  frighten  me. 
This  is  a  jest — a  comedy  I — which  the  king  is  carrying  on  at  my  ex- 
pense. If  I  were  really  regarded  as  a  deserter,  as  a  prisoner  for  the 
crime  of  high  treason,  no  oflScer  would  dare  to  guard  me  so  care- 
lessly. In  the  beginning,  I  was  harshly  treated,  in  order  to  alarm 
and  deceive  me,  and  truly  those  twelve  silent  hussars,  continually 
surrounding  the  closed  carriage,  had  rather  a  melancholy  aspect, 
and  I  confess  I  was  imposed  upon.  But  the  mask  has  fallen,  and  I 
see  behind  the  smiling,  good-humored  face  of  the  king.  He  loved 
me  truly  once,  and  was  as  kind  as  a  father.  Tlie  old  love  has 
awakened  and  spoken  in  my  favor.  Frederick  wishes  to  have  me 
again  in  Berlin — that  is  all ;  and  he  knows  well  that  I  can  be  of 
service  to  him.  He  who  has  his  spies  everywhere,  knows  that  no 
one  else  can  give  him  such  definite  information  as  to  the  intentions 
and  plans  of  Russia  as  I  can — that  no  one  knows  so  certainly  what 
the  preparations  for  war,  now  going  on  throughout  the  whole  of 
Russia,  signify.  Yes,  yes  ;  so  it  is !  Frederick  will  have  me  again 
in  his  service  ;  he  knows  of  my  intimacy  with  the  all-powerful  wife 
of  Bestuchef ;  that  I  am  in  constant  correspondence  with  her,  and 
in  this  way  informed  of  all  the  plans  of  the  Russian  government.  * 
Possibly,  the  king  intends  to  send  me  as  a  secret  ambassador  to  St. 
Petersburg!  That  would,  indeed,  open  a  career  to  me,  and  bring 
me  exalted  honor,  and  perhaps  make  that  event  possible  which  has 
heretofore  only  floated  before  my  dazzled  sight  like  a  dream -picture. 
Oh,  Amelia  !  noblest,  most  constant  of  women  !  could  the  dreams  of 
our  youth  be  realized?  If  fate,  softened  by  your  tears  and  your 
heroic  courage,  would  at  last  unite  you  with  him  you  have  so  fondly 
and  so  truly  loved !  Misled  by  youth,  presumption,  and  levity,  I 
have  sometimes  trifled  with  my  most  holy  remembrances,  sometimes 
seemed  unfaithful ;  but  my  love  to  you  has  never  failed ;  I  have 
worn  it  as  a  talisman  about  my  heart.  I  have  ever  worshipped  you, 
I  have  ever  hoped  in  you,  and  I  will  believe  in  you  always,  if  I 
doubt  and  despair  of  all  others.  Oh,  Amelia !  protecting  angel  of 
my  life  I  perhaps  I  may  now  return  to  you.     I  shall  see  you  a^ain, 


TRENCK  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  PRISON.  97 

look  once  more  into  your  beauteous  eyes,  kneel  humbly  before  you, 
and  receive  absolution  for  my  sins.  They  were  but  sins  of  the  flesh, 
my  soul  had  no  part  in  them.  I  will  return  to  you,  and  live  free, 
honored,  and  happy  by  your  side.  I  know  this  by  the  gracious  re- 
ception of  the  duke ;  I  know  it  by  the  careless  manner  in  which  I 
am  guarded.  Before  the  officer  went  to  sleep  he  told  me  how 
securely  a  fugitive  could  hide  himself  in  these  woods.  I,  however, 
have  no  necessity  to  hide  myself ;  no  misfortune  hovers  over  me, 
honor  and  gladness  beckon  me  on.  I  will  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  fly  ; 
life  opens  to  me  new  and  flowery  paths,  greets  me  with  laughing 
hopes. "  * 

Wholly  occupied  with  these  thoughts,  Trenck  leaned  back  in  the 
carriage  and  gave  himself  up  to  bright  dreams  of  the  future.  Slowly 
the  horses  moved  through  the  deep,  white  sand,  which  made  the 
roll  of  the  wheels  noiseless,  and  effaced  instantaneously  the  footprints 
of  men.  The  officer  still  slept,  the  coachman  had  dropped  the  reins, 
and  nodded  here  and  there  as  if  intoxicated.  The  wood  was  drear 
and  empty;  no  human  dwelling,  no  human  face  was  seen.  Had 
Trenck  wished  to  escape,  one  spring  from  the  low,  open  carriage  ;  a 
hundred  hasty  steps  would  have  brought  him  to  a  thicket  where 
discovery  was  impossible  ;  the  carriage  would  have  rolled  on  quietly, 
and  when  the  sleepers  aroused  themselves,  they  would  have  had  no 
idea  of  the  direction  Trenck  had  taken.  The  loose  and  rolling  sand 
would  not  have  retained  his  footprints,  and  the  whispering  trees 
would  not  have  betrayed  him. 

Trenck  would  not  fly  ;  he  was  full  of  romance,  faith,  and  hope  ; 
his  sanguine  temper  painted  his  future  in  enchanting  colors.  No, 
he  would  not  flee,  he  had  faith  in  his  star.  Life's  earnest  tragedy 
had  yet  for  him  a  smiling  face,  and  life's  bitter  tniths  seemed  allur- 
ing visions.  No,  the  king  only  wished  to  tiy  him  ;  he  wished  to  see 
if  he  could  frighten  him  into  an  effort  to  escape  ;  he  gave  him  the 
opportunity  for  flight,  but  if  he  made  use  of  it,  he  would  be  lost 
forever  in  the  eyes  of  Frederick,  and  his  prospects  utterly  destroyed. 
If  he  bravely  sirffered  the  chance  of  escape  to  pass  by,  and  aiTived 
in  Berlin,  to  all  appearance  a  prisoner,  the  king  would  have  the 
agreeable  task  of  undeceiving  him,  and  Trenck  would  have  shown 
conclusively  that  he  had  faith  in  the  king's  magnanimity,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  him  without  fear.  He  would  have  proved  also  that 
his  conscience  was  clear,  and  that,  without  flattering,  he  could  yield 
himself  to  the  judgment  of  the  king. "  No,  Trenck  would  not  fly. 
In  Berlin,  liberty,  love,  and  Amelia  awaited  him  ;  he  would  lose  all 
this  by  flight ;  it  would  all  remain  his  if  he  did  not  allow  himself 
to  be  enticed  by  the  flattering  goddess,  opportunity,  who  now  be^k- 


08  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

oned  and  nodded  smilingly  from  behind  every  tree  and  eveiy  thicket. 
Trenck  withstood  these  enticements  during  three  long  days  ;  with 
careless  indifference  he  passed  slowly  on  through  this  lonely  region  ; 
in  his  arrogant  blindness  and  self-confidence  he  did  not  observe  the 
careworn  and  anxious  looks  of  the  officers  who  conducted  him  ; 
he  did  not  hear  or  understand  the  low,  hesitating  insinuations  they 
dared  to  speak. 

"  Tliis  is  your  last  resting-point, "  said  the  officer  who  had  con- 
ducted him  from  the  last  station.  "You  will  remain  here  this  after- 
noon, and  early  to-morrow  morning  the  cavalry  officer  Von  Halber 
will  conduct  you  to  Berlin,  where  the  last  barracks  of  our  regiment 
are  to  be  found ;  from  that  point  the  infantry  garrison  will  take 
charge  of  your  further  transportation." 

"I  shall  not  make  their  duties  difficult,"  said  Trenck,  gayly. 
"You  see  I  am  a  good-natured  prisoner;  no  Argus  eyes  are  neces- 
sary, as  I  have  no  intention  to  flee. " 

The  officer  gazed  into  his  calm,  smiling  face  with  amazement, 
and  then  stepped  out  with  the  officer  Von  Halber,  into  whose  house 
they  had  now  entered,  to  make  known  his  doubts  and  apprehensions. 

"Perhaps  the  opportunities  which  have  been  offered  him  have 
not  been  sufficiently  manifest, "  said  Von  Halber.  "  Perhaps  he  has 
not  regarded  them  as  safe,  and  he  fears  a  failure.  In  that  he  is 
right ;  a  vain  attempt  at  flight  would  be  much  more  prejudicial  to 
him  than  to  yield  himself  without  opposition.  Well,  I  will  see  that 
he  has  now  a  sure  chance  to  escape,  and  you  may  believe  he  will  be 
cunning  enough  to  take  advantage  of  it.  You  may  say  this  much 
to  his  highness  the  duke. " 

"  But  do  not  forget  that  the  duke  commanded  us  not  to  betray  his 
intention  to  prepare  these  opportimities  by  a  single  word.  This 
course  would  compromise  the  duke  and  all  of  us. " 

"  I  understand  perfectly, "  said  Von  Halber ;  "  I  will  speak  elo- 
quently by  deeds,  and  not  with  words." 

True  to  this  intention,  Von  Halber,  after  having  partaken  of  a 
gay  dinner  with  Trenck  and  several  officers,  left  his  house,  accom- 
panied by  all  his  servants. 

"  The  horses  must  be  exercised, "  said  he ;  and,  as  he  was  unmar- 
ried, no  one  remained  in  the  house  but  Trenck. 

"  You  will  be  my  house-guard  for  several  hours, "  said  the  officer 
to  Trenck,  who  was  standing  at  the  door  as  he  drove  off.  "  I  hope 
no  one  will  come  to  disturb  your  solitude.  My  officers  all  accom- 
pany me,  and  I  have  no  acquaintance  in  this  little  village.  You 
will  be  entirely  alone,  and  if,  on  my  return,  I  find  that  you  have 
disappeared  in  mist  and  fog,  I  shall  believe  that  ennui  has  extii}- 
^ished  you— reduce  j^ou  to  a  bodiless  nothing. " 


TRENCK  ON  HB  WAY  TO  PRISON.  99 

"  Well,  I  think  lie  must  have  understood  that, "  said  Von  Halljer, 
as  he  dashed  down  the  street,  followed  by  his  staff.  "  He  must  be 
blind  and  deaf  if  he  does  not  flee  from  the  fate  before  him. " 

Trenck,  alas !  had  not  understood.  He  believed  in  no  danger, 
and  did  not,  therefore,  see  the  necessity  for  flight.  He  found  this 
quiet,  lonely  house  inexpressibly  wearisome.  He  wandei'ed  through 
the  rooms,  seeking  some  object  of  interest,  or  some  book  which 
would  enable  him  to  pass  the  tedious  hours.  The  cavalry  officer  was 
a  gallant  and  experienced  soldier,  but  he  was  no  scholar,  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  books.  Trenck's  search  was  in  vain.  Discon- 
tented and  restless,  he  wandered  about,  and  at  last  entered  the  little 
court  which  led  to  the  stable.  A  welcome  sound  fell  on  his  ears, 
and  made  his  heart  beat  jof  j^uUy  ;  with  rapid  steps  he  entered  the 
stable.  Two  splendid  horses  stood  in  the  stalls,  snorting  and  stamp- 
ing impatiently  ;  they  were  evidently  riding- horses,  for  near  them 
hung  saddles  and  bridles.  Their  nostrils  dilated  proudly  as  they 
threw  their  heads  back  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  which  rushed  in  at 
the  open  door.  It  appeared  to  Trenck  that  their  flashing  eyes  were 
pleading  to  him  for  liberty  and  action. 

"  Poor  beasts, "  said  he,  stepping  forward,  and  patting  and  caress- 
ing them — "  poor  beasts,  you  also  pine  for  liberty,  and  hope  for  my 
assistance  ;  but  I  cannot,  I  dare  not  aid  you.  Like  you,  I  also  am  a 
prisoner,  and  like  you  also,  a  prisoner  to  my  will.  If  you  would 
use  your  strength,  one  movement  of  your  powerful  muscles  would 
tear  your  bonds  asunder,  and  your  feet  would  bear  you  swiftly  like 
wings  through  the  air.  If  I  would  use  the  present  opportunity, 
which  beckons  and  smiles  upon  me,  it  would  be  only  necessary  to 
spring  upon  your  back  and  dash  off  into  God's  fair  and  lovely  world. 
We  would  reach  our  goal,  we  would  be  free,  but  we  would  both  be 
lost ;  we  would  be  recaptured,  and  would  bitterly  repent  our  short 
dream  of  self-acquired  freedom.  It  is  better  for  us  both  that  we 
remain  as  we  are  ;  bound,  not  with  chains  laid  upon  our  bodies,  but 
by  wisdom  and  discretion. 

So  saying,  he  smoothed  tenderly  the  glossy  throat  of  the  gallant 
steed,  whose  jofyul  neigh  filled  his  heart  with  an  inexplicable  mel- 
ancholy. 

"  I  must  leave  you, "  murmured  he,  shudderingly ;  "  your  lusty 
neighing  intoxicates  my  senses,  and  reminds  me  of  green  fields  and 
f  ragi'ant  meadows  ;  of  the  broad  highways,  and  the  glad  feeling  of 
liberty  which  one  enjoys  when  flying  through  the  world  on  the  back 
of  a  gallant  steed.  No  !  no  !  I  dare  no  longer  look  upon  you  ;  all  my 
wisdom  and  discretion  might  melt  away,  and  I  might  be  allured  to 
seek  for  myself  that  freedom  which  I  must  receive  alone  at  the 
bands  of  the  king,  in  Berlin. " 


100       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

With  hasty  steps  Trenck  left  the  stable  and  returned  to  the  house, 
where  he  stretched  himself  upon  the  sofa,  and  gave  himself  up  to 
dreamland.  It  was  twilight  when  Halber  returned  from  his  long 
ride. 

"All  is  quiet  and  peaceful,"  said  he,  as  he  entered  the  house. 
"  The  bird  has  flown,  this  time  ;  he  found  the  opportunity  favorable. " 

With  a  contented  smile,  he  entered  his  room,  but  his  expression 
changed  suddenly,  and  his  trembling  lips  muttered  a  soldier's  curse. 
There  lay  Trenck  in  peaceful  slumber ;  his  handsome,  youthful  face 
was  bright  and  free  from  care,  and  those  must  be  sweet  dreams 
which  floated  around  him,  for  he  smiled  in  his  sleep. 

" Poor  fellow !"  said  Von  Halber,  shaking  his  head ;  "he  must  be 
mad,  or  struck  with  blindness,  and  cannot  see  the  yawning  abyss  at 
his  feet. " 

He  awakened  Trenck,  and  asked  him  how  he  had  amused  him- 
self, during  the  long  hours  of  solitude. 

"  I  looked  through  all  your  house,  and  then  entered  the  stables 
and  gladdened  my  heart  by  the  sight  of  your  beautiful  horses. " 

"  Thunder  and  lightning  !  You  have  then  seen  my  horses, "  cried 
Halber,  thoroughly  provoked.  "  Did  no  wish  arise  in  your  heart  to 
mount  one  and  seek  your  liberty  ?" 

Frederick  Trenck  smiled.  "The  wish,  indeed,  arose  in  my  heart, 
but  I  suppressed  it  manfully.  Do  you  not  see,  dear  Halber,  that  it 
would  be  unthankful  and  unknightly  to  reward  in  this  cowardly  and 
contemptible  way  the  magnanimous  confidence  you  have  shown  me." 

"Truly,  you  are  an  honorable  gentleman,"  cried  Halber,  greatly 
touched  ;  "I  had  not  thought  of  that.  It  would  not  have  been  well 
to  flee  from  my  house. " 

"To-morrow  he  will  fly,"  thought  the  good-natured  soldier, 
"  when  once  more  alone — to-morrow,  and  the  opportunity  shall  not 
be  wanting. " 

Von  Halber  left  his  house  early  in  the  morning  to  conduct  his 
prisoner  to  Berlin.  No  one  accompanied  them ;  no  one  but  the 
coachman,  who  sat  upon  the  box  and  never  looked  behind  him. 

Their  path  led  through  a  thick  wood.  Von  Halber  entertained 
the  prisoner  as  the  lieutenant  had  done  who  conducted  Trenck  the 
day  he  left  Coslin.  He  called  his  attention  to  the  denseness  of  the 
forest,  and  spoke  of  the  many  fugitives  who  had  concealed  them- 
selves there  till  pursuit  was  abandoned.  He  then  invited  Trenck  to 
get  down  and  walk  with  him,  near  the  carriage. 

As  Trenck  accepted  the  invitation,  and  strolled  along  by  hia  side 
in  careless  indifference.  Von  Halber  suddenly  observed  that  the 
ground  was  covered  with  mushrooms. 

"  Let  us  gather  a  few, "  said  he ;  "  the  young  wife  of  one  of  my 


TRENCK  ON  HIS  WAY  TO  PRISON.  101 

friends  understands  bow  to  make  a  glorious  dish  of  them,  and  if  I 
take  her  a  large  collection,  she  will  consider  it  a  kind  attention. 
Let  us  take  our  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  and  fill  them.  You  will 
take  the  right  path  into  the  wood,  and  I  the  left.  In  one  hour  we 
will  meet  here  again. " 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  the  good  Halber  turned  to  the 
left  in  the  wood,  and  was  lost  in  the  thicket.  In  an  hour  he  returned 
to  the  carriage,  and  found  Trenck  smilingly  awaiting  him. 

He  turned  pale,  and  with  an  expression  of  exasperation,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"You  have  not  then  lost  yourself  in  the  woods?" 

"  I  have  not  lost  myself, "  said  Trenck,  quietly ;  "  and  I  have 
gathered  a  quantity  of  beautiful  mushrooms. " 

Trenck  handed  him  his  handkerchief,  filled  with  small,  round 
mushrooms.  Halber  threw  them  with  a  sort  of  despair  into  the  car- 
riage, and  then,  without  saying  one  word,  he  mounted  and  nodded 
to  Trenck  to  follow  him. 

"  And  now  let  us  be  off, "  said  he,  shortly.  "  Coachman,  drive 
on!" 

He  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  and  with  frowning  brow  he  gazed 
up  into  the  heavens. 

Slowly  the  carriage  rolled  through  the  sand,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
the  panting,  creeping  horses  shrank  back  from  reaching  their  goal, 
the  boimdary-line  of  the  Wurtembergian  dragoons.  Trenck  had 
followed  his  companion's  example,  and  leaned  back  in  the  carriage. 
Halber  was  gloomy  and  filled  with  dark  forebodings.  Trenck  was 
gay  and  unembarrassed  ;  not  the  slightest  trace  of  care  or  mistrust 
could  be  read  in  his  features. 

They  moved  onward  silently.  The  air  was  fresh  and  pure,  the 
heavens  cleai- ;  but  a  dark  cloud  was  round  about  the  path  of  this 
dazzled,  blinded  yovmg  oflScer.  The  birds  sang  of  it  on  the  green 
boughs,  but  Trenck  would  not  undierstand  them.  They  sang  of 
liberty  and  gladness ;  they  called  to  him  to  foUow  their  example, 
and  fly  far  from  the  haunts  of  men  !  The  dark  wood  echoed  Fly ! 
fly !  in  powerful  organ-tones,  but  Trenck  took  them  for  the  holy 
hymns  of  God's  peaceful,  sleeping  world.  He  heard  not  the  trees, 
as  with  warning  voices  they  bowed  down  and  murmured.  Flee ! 
flee  !  CJome  under  our  shadow,  we  will  conceal  you  till  the  danger 
be  overpast !  Flee  !  flee  I  Misfortune,  like  a  cruel  vulture,  is  float- 
ing over  you — already  her  fangs  are  extended  to  grasp  you.  The 
desert  winds,  in  wild  haste  rushed  by  and  covering  this  poor  child 
of  sorrow  with  clouds  of  dust,  whispered  in  his  ear.  Fly  !  fly  ! — fol- 
low my  example  and  rush  madly  backward  !  Misfortune  advances 
to  meet  you,  and  a  river  of  teftrs  flowg  down  the  path  you  ?ire  blindly 


102        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

following.  Turn  your  head  and  flee,  before  this  broad,  deep  stream 
overtakes  you.  The  creaking  wlieels  seemed  to  sob  out,  Fly  !  fly  !  we 
are  rolling  you  onward  to  a  dark  and  eternal  prison !  Do  you  not 
hear  the  clashing  of  chains?  Do  j-ou  not  see  the  open  grave  at  your 
feet?  These  are  your  chains  ! — that  is  your  grave,  already  prepared 
for  the  living,  glowing  heart !  Fly  !  then,  fly  !  You  are  yet  free  to 
choose.  The  clouds  which  swayed  on  over  the  heavens,  traced  in 
purple  and  gold  the  warning  words,  Fly !  fly !  or  you  look  upon  us 
for  the  last  time  !  Upon  the  anxious  face  of  Von  Halber  was  also  to 
be  seen.  Fly  now,  it  is  high  time !  I  see  the  end  of  the  wood ! — I 
see  the  first  houses  of  Boslin.  Fly  !  then,  fly ! — it  is  high  time ! 
Alas,  Trenck's  eyes  were  blinded,  and  his  ears  were  filled  with  dust. 

"  Those  whom  demons  will  destroy,  they  first  strike  with  blind- 
ness."  Trenck's  evil  genius  had  blinded  his  eyes — his  destruction 
was  sure.  There  remained  no  hope  of  escape.  Tlie  carriage  had 
reached  the  end  of  the  wood  and  rolled  now  over  the  chaussi  to 
Boslin. 

But  what  means  this  great  crowd  before  the  stately  house  which 
is  decorated  with  the  Prussian  arms?  What  means  this  troop  of 
soldiers  who  with  stem,  frowning  brows,  surround  the  dark  coach 
with  the  closed  windows? 

"We  are  in  Boslin,"  said  Von  Halber,  pointing  toward  the  group 
of  soldiers.  "That  is  the  post-house,  and,  as  you  see,  we  are  ex- 
pected." 

For  the  first  time  Trenck  was  pale,  and  horror  was  written  in  his 
face.  "I  am  lost!"  stammered  he,  completely  overcome,  and  sink- 
ing back  into  the  carriage  he  cast  a  wild,  despairing  glance  around 
him,  and  seized  the  arm  of  Halber  with  a  powerful  hand. 

"  Be  merciful,  sir !  oh,  be  merciful !  Let  us  move  more  slowly. 
Turn  back,  oh,  turn  back  !  just  to  the  entrance  of  the  wood — only  to 
the  entrance  of  the  street !" 

"  You  see  that  is  impossible, "  said  Von  Halber,  sadly.  "  We  are 
recognized ;  if  we  turn  back  now,  they  will  welcome  us  with 
bullets." 

"  It  were  far  better  for  me  to  die, "  murmured  Trenck,  "  than  to 
enter  that  dark  prison— that  open  grave  !" 

"  Alas  !  you  would  not  fly — you  would  not  understand  me.  I  gave 
you  many  opportunities,  but  you  would  not  avail  yourself  of  them. " 

"I  was  mad,  mad  !"  cried  Trenck.  "I  had  confldence  in  myself 
— I  had  faith  in  my  good  star — but  the  curse  of  my  evil  genius  has 
overtaken  me.  Oh,  my  God !  I  am  lost,  lost !  All  my  hopes  were 
deceptive — the  king  is  my  irreconcilable  enemy,  and  he  will  revenge 
my  past  life  on  my  future !  I  have  this  knowledge  too  late.  Oh, 
Halber!  go  slowly,  slowly;  I  must  give  you  my  last  testament. 


PRINCE  HENRY  AND  HIS  WIFE.  103 

Mark  well  what  I  say — these  are  the  last  words  of  a  man  who  is  more 
to  be  pitied  than  the  dying.  It  is  a  small  service  which  I  ask  of 
you,  but  my  existence  depends  upon  it :  Go  quickly  to  the  Duke 
of  Wurtemberg  and  say  this  to  him  :  '  Frederick  von  Trenck  sends 
Duke  Ferdinand  his  last  greeting  !  He  is  a  prisoner,  and  in  death's 
extremity.  Will  the  duke  take  pity  on  him,  and  convey  this  news 
to  her  whom  he  knows  to  be  Trenck 's  friend?  Tell  her  Trenck  is  a 
prisoner,  and  hopes  only  in  her !'     Will  you  swear  to  me  to  do  this?" 

"  I  swear  it, "  said  Von  Halber,  deeply  moved. 

The  caiTiage  stopped.  Von  Halber  sprang  down  and  greeted  the 
officer  who  was  to  take  charge  of  Trenck.  The  soldiers  placed 
themselves  on  both  sides  of  the  coach,  and  the  door  was  opened. 
Trenck  cast  a  last  despairing,  imploring  glance  to  heaven,  then, 
with  a  firm  step,  approached  the  open  coach.  In  the  act  of  enter- 
ing, he  turned  once  more  to  the  officer  Von  Halber,  whose  friendly 
eyes  were  darkened  with  tears. 

"You  will  not  forget,  sir !" 

These  simply,  sadly-spoken  words,  breaking  the  solemn,  impos- 
ing silence,  made  an  impression  upon  the  hearts  of  even  the  stem 
soldiers  around  them. 

"  I  will  not  forget, "  said  Von  Halber,  solemnly. 

Trenck  bowed  and  entered  the  coach.  The  officer  followed  him 
and  closed  the  door.  Slowly,  like  a  funeral  procession,  the  coach 
moved  on.     Von  Halber  gazed  after  him  sadly. 

"  He  is  right,  he  is  more  to  be  pitied  than  the  dying.  I  will 
hasten  to  fulfil  his  last  testament. " 

Eight  days  later,  the  Princess  Amelia  received  through  the  hands 
of  Polluitz  a  letter  from  Duke  Ferdinand.  As  she  read  it,  she  uttered 
a  cry  of  anguish,  and  sank  insensible  upon  the  floor.  The  duke's 
letter  contained  these  words  : 

"  All  my  efforts  were  in  vain ;  he  would  not  fly,  would  not  be- 
lieve in  his  danger.  In  the  casemates  of  Magdeburg  sits  a  poor 
prisoner,  whose  last  words  directed  to  me  were  these :  '  Say  to  her 
whom  you  know  that  I  am  a  prisoner,  and  hope  only  in  her, '  " 


CHAPTER    III. 

PRINCE  HENRY  AND  mS  WIPE. 

Prince  Henry  walked  restlessly  backward  and  forward  in  his 
study ;  his  brow  was  stern,  and  a  strange  fire  flamed  in  his  eye. 
lie  felt  greatly  agitated  and  oppressed,  and  scarcely  knew  the  cause 
himself.     Nothing  had  happened  to  disturb  his  equanimity  and  give 


104       FREDEKICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

occasion  for  his  wayward  mood.  The  outside  world  wore  its  accus- 
tomed gay  and  festal  aspect.  To-day,  as  indeed  almost  every  day 
since  the  prince  resided  at  Rheinsberg,  preparations  were  being  made 
for  a  gay  entertainment.  A  country  fete  was  to  be  given  in  the 
woods  near  the  palace,  and  all  the  guests  were  to  appear  as  shep- 
herds and  sheperdesses. 

Prince  Henry  had  withdrawn  to  his  own  room  to  assume  the 
tasteful  costume  which  had  been  prepared  for  him  ;  but  he  seemed 
to  have  entirely  forgotten  his  purpose.  The  tailor  and  thefriseur 
awaited  him  in  vain  in  his  dressing-room  ;  he  forgot  their  existence. 
He  paced  his  room  with  rapid  steps,  and  his  tightly- compressed  lips 
opened  from  time  to  time  to  utter  a  few  broken,  disconnected  words. 

Of  what  was  the  prince  thinking?  He  did  not  know,  or  he. 
would  not  confess  it  to  himself.  Perhaps  he  dared  not  look  down 
deep  into  his  heart  and  comprehend  the  new  feelings  and  new  wishes 
which  were  struggling  there. 

At  times  he  stood  still,  and  looked  with  a  wild,  rapt  expression 
into  the  heavens,  as  if  they  alone  could  answer  the  mysterious  ques- 
tions his  soul  was  whispering  to  him  ;  then  passed  on  with  his  hand 
pressed  on  his  brow  to  control  or  restrain  the  thoughts  which  agi- 
tated him.  He  did  not  hear  a  light  tap  upon  the  door,  he  did  not 
see  it  open,  and  his  most  intimate  and  dearest  friend.  Count  Kal- 
kreuth  enter,  dressed  in  the  full  costume  of  a  shepherd. 

Count  Kalkreuth  stood  still,  and  did  nothing  to  call  the  attention 
of  the  prince  to  his  presence.  He  remained  at  the  door ;  his  face 
was  also  dark  and  troubled,  and  the  glance  which  he  fixed  upon 
I*rince  Henry  was  almost  one  of  hatred. 

The  prince  turned,  and  the  count's  expression  changed  instantly ; 
he  stepped  gayly  forward  and  said  : 

"Your  royal  highness  sees  my  astonishment  at  finding  you  lost 
in  such  deep  thought,  and  your  toilet  not  even  commenced.  I  stand 
like  Lot's  blessed  wife,  turned  to  stone  upon  your  threshold  !  Have 
you  forgotten,  my  prince,  that  you  conunanded  us  all  to  be  ready 
punctually  at  four  o'clock?  The  castle  clock  is  at  this  moment 
striking  four.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen  will  now  assemble  in  the 
music-saloon,  as  you  directed,  and  you,  prince,  are  not  yet  in 
costume. " 

"  It  is  true, "  said  Prince  Henry,  somewhat  embarrassed,  "  I  liad 
forgotten  ;  but  I  will  hasten  to  make  good  my  fault. " 

He  stepped  slowly,  and  with  head  bowed  down,  toward  his  dress- 
ing-room ;  at  the  door,  he  stood  and  looked  back  at  the  count. 

"  You  are  already  in  costume,  my  friend, "  said  he,  noticing  for 
the  first  time  the  fantastic  dress  of  the  coimt.  "Truly,  this  style 
becomes  you  marvellously ;  your  bright-coloi'ed  satin  jacket  shows 


PRrNCi:  HENRY  AND  HIS  WIFE.  106 

your  fine  proportions  as  advantageously  as  your  captain's  uniform. 
But  what  means  this  scarf  which  you  wear  upon  your  shoulder?" 

"  These  are  the  colors  of  my  shepherdess, "  said  the  count,  with  a 
constrained  smile. 

"Who  is  your  shepherdess?" 

**  Your  highness  asks  that,  when  you  yourself  selected  her !"  said 
Kalkreuth,  astonished. 

"Yes  it  is  ti'ue;  I  forgot,"  said  the  prince.  "  The  princess,  my 
wife,  is  your  shepherdess.  Well,  I  sincerely  hope  you  may  find  her 
highness  more  gay  and  gracious  than  she  was  to  me  this  morning, 
and  that  you  may  see  the  rare  beauty  of  this  fair  rose,  of  which  I 
only  feel  the  thorns  !" 

While  the  prince  was  speaking,  the  count  became  deathly  pale^ 
and  looked  at  him  with  painful  distrust. 

"  It  is  true, "  he  replied,  "  the  princess  is  cold  and  reserved  toward 
her  husband.  Without  doubt,  this  is  the  result  of  a  determination 
to  meet  your  wishes  fully,  and  to  remain  clearly  within  the  boun- 
dary which  3'our  highness  at  the  time  of  your  marriage,  more  than 
a  year  ago,  plainly  marked  out  for  her.  The  princess  knows,  per- 
haps too  well,  that  her  husband  is  wholly  indifferent  to  her  beauty 
and  her  expression,  and  therefore  feels  herself  at  liberty  to  yield  to 
each  changeful  mood  without  ceremony  in  yoiu*  presence. " 

"You  are  right,"  said  Prince  Henry,  sadly,  "she  is  wholly  in- 
dififerent  to  me,  and  I  have  told  her  so.  We  will  speak  no  more  of 
it.  What,  indeed,  are  the  moods  of  the  princess  to  me?  I  will 
dress,  go  to  the  music-saloon,  and  ask  for  forgiveness  in  my  name 
for  my  delay.  I  will  soon  be  ready  ;  I  will  seek  the  princess  in  her 
apartments,  and  we  will  join  you  in  a  few  moments." 

The  prince  bowed  and  left  the  room.  Kalkreuth  gazed  after  him 
thoughtfully  and  anxious. 

"His  manner  is  unaccountably  strange  to-day,"  whispered  he. 
"  Has  he,  perhaps,  any  suspicion  ;  and  these  apparently  artless  ques- 
tions and  remarks,  this  distraction  and  forgetfulness —  But  no,  no ! 
it  is  impossible  ;  he  can  know  nothing — no  one  has  betrayed  me.  It 
is  the  anguish  of  my  conscience  which  makes  me  fearful ;  this 
suffering  I  must  bear,  it  is  the  penalty  I  pay  for  my  great  happi- 
ness. "    The  count  sighed  deeply  and  withdrew. 

The  prince  completed  his  toilet,  and  sought  the  princess  in  her 
apartment,  in  the  other  wing  of  the  castle.  With  hasty  st«ps  he 
passed  through  the  corridors ;  his  countenance  was  anxious  and  ex- 
pectant, hia  eyes  were  glowing  and  impatient,  haste  marked  eveiy 
movement ;  he  held  in  his  hand  a  costly  bouquet  of  white  camelias. 
When  he  reached  the  anteroom  of  the  princess  he  became  pallid, 
and  leaned  for  a  moment,  trembling  and  gasping  for  breath,  against 
8 


106       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  wall ;  he  soon,  however,  by  a  strong  effort,  ccmtroUed  himself, 
entered,  and  commanded  the  servant  to  announce  him. 

The  Princess  Wilhelmina  received  her  husband  with  a  stiff, 
ceremonious  courtesy,  which,  in  its  courtly  etiquette,  did  not  corre- 
spond with  the  costume  she  had  assumed.  The  proud  and  stately 
princess  was  transformed  into  an  enchanting,  lovely  shepherdess. 
It  was,  indeed,  difficult  to  decide  if  the  princess  were  more  beauti- 
ful in  her  splendid  court  toilet,  adorned  with  diamonds,  and  wear- 
ing on  her  high,  clear  brow  a  sparkling  diadem,  proud  and  conscious 
of  her  beauty  and  her  triumphs ;  or  now,  in  this  artistic  costume, 
in  which  she  was  less  imposing,  but  more  enchanting  and  more 
gracious. 

Wilhelmina  wore  an  under-skirt  of  white  satin,  a  red  tunic, 
gayly  embroidered  and  festooned  with  white  roses ;  a  white  satin 
bodice,  embroidered  with  silver,  defined  her  full  but  pliant  form, 
and  displayed  her  luxurious  bust  in  its  rare  proportions  ;  a  bouquet 
of  red  roses  was  fastened  upon  each  shoulder,  and  held  the  silvery 
-veil  which  half  concealed  the  lovely  throat  and  bosom.  The  long, 
black,  unpowdered  hair  fell  in  graceful  ringlets  about  her  fair  neck, 
and  formed  a  dark  frame  for  the  beautiful  face,  glowing  with 
health,  youth,  and  intellect.  In  her  hair  she  wore  a  wreath  of  red 
and  white  roses,  and  a  bouquet  of  the  same  in  her  bosom. 

She  was,  indeed,  dazzling  in  her  beauty,  and  was,  perhaps,  con- 
scious of  her  power ;  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  ravishing  smile 
played  upon  her  lips  as  she  looked  up  at  the  prince,  who  stood  dumb 
and  embarrassed  before  her,  and  could  find  no  words  to  express  his 
admiration. 

"If  it  is  agreeable  to  your  highness,  let  us  join  your  company," 
said  the  princess,  at  last,  anxious  to  put  an  end  to  this  intei'view. 
She  extended  her  hand  coolly  to  her  husband ;  he  grasped  it,  and 
held  it  fast,  but  still  stood  silently  looking  upon  her. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  at  last,  in  low  and  hesitating  tones — 
"  madame,  I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you. " 

"  Command  me,  my  husband, "  said  she,  coldly ;  "  what  shall  I 
do?" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  command,  but  to  entreat,"  said  the  prince. 

"  Well,  then.  Prince  Henry,  speak  your  request. " 

The  prince  gave  the  bouquet  of  white  camelias  to  his  wife,  and 
Baid,  in  a  faltering,  pleading  voice,  "I  beg  you  to  accept  this  bou- 
quet from  me,  and  to  wear  it  to-day  in  your  bosom,  although  it  is 
not  your  shepherd  who  offers  it !" 

"  No,  not  my  shepherd,  but  my  husband, "  said  the  princess,  re- 
moving angrily  the  bouquet  of  roses  from  her  bodice.  "  I  must,  of 
course,  wear  the  flowers  he  gives  me. " 


PRINCE  HENRY  AND  HIS  WIFE.  107 

Without  giving  one  glance  at  the  flowers,  she  fastened  them  in 
her  bosom. 

"If  you  will  not  look  upon  them  for  my  sake,"  said  the  prince, 
earnestly,  "  I  pray  you,  give  them  one  glance  for  the  flowers'  sake. 
You  will  at  least  feel  assured  that  no  other  shepherdess  is  adorned 
with  such  a  bouquet. " 

"Yes,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "these  are  not  white  roses;  indeed, 
they  seem  to  be  artificial  flowers ;  their  leaves  are  hard  and  thick 
like  alabaster,  and  dazzlingly  white  like  snow.  What  flowers  are 
these,  my  prince?" 

"They  are  camelias.  I  recently  heard  you  speak  of  these  rare 
flowers,  which  had  just  been  imported  to  Europe.  I  hoped  to  please 
you  by  placing  them  in  your  hands. " 

"  Certainly ;  but  I  did  not  know  that  these  new  exotics  were 
blooming  in  our  land. " 

"And  they  are  not,"  said  Prince  Henry.  "This  bouquet  comes 
from  Schwetzingen ;  there,  only,  in  Germany,  in  the  celebrated 
green-houses  of  the  Margravine  of  Baden  can  they  be  seen. " 

"  How,  then,  did  you  get  them  ?"  said  the  princess,  astonished. 

"  I  sent  a  courier  to  Schwetzingen ;  the  blossoms  were  wrapped  in 
moist,  green  moss,  and  are  so  well  preserved,  that  they  look  as  fresh 
as  when  they  were  gathered  six  days  since. " 

"And  you  sent  for  them  for  me?"  said  Wilhelmina. 

"  Did  you  not  express  a  wish  to  see  them  ?"  replied  the  prince ; 
and  his  glance  rested  upon  her  with  such  ardent  passion  that,  blush- 
ing, she  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  stood  still  and  ashamed 
before  him. 

"And  you  have  not  one  little  word  of  thanks?"  said  the  prince, 
after  a  long  pause.  "  Will  you  not  fasten  these  pure  flowers  on  your 
bosom,  and  allow  them  to  die  a  happy  death  there?  Alas  !  you  are 
hard  and  cruel  with  me,  princess  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  your  husband 
dare  claim  from  you  more  of  kindliness  and  friendship. " 

"  My  husband !"  cried  she,  in  a  mocking  tone.  She  turned  her 
eyes,  searchingly,  in  every  direction  around  the  room.  "  It  appears 
to  me  that  we  are  alone  and  wholly  imobserved,  and  that  it  is  here 
unnecessary  for  us  to  play  this  comedy  and  call  ourselves  by  those 
names  which  we  adopted  to  deceive  the  world,  and  which  you  taught 
me  to  regard  as  empty  titles.  It  is,  indeed,  possible  that  a  wife  . 
should  be  more  friendly  and  affectionate  to  her  husband  ;  but  I  do 
not  believe  that  a  lady  dare  give  more  encouragement  to  a  cavalier 
than  I  manifest  to  your  royal  highness. " 

"  You  are  more  friendly  to  all  the  world  than  to  me,  Wilhelmina, " 
said  the  prince,  angrily.  "  You  have  a  kindly  word,  a  magic  glance, 
a  gracious  reception  for  all  others  who  approach  you.    To  me  alone 


108       FBEDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

axe  jou  cold  and  stem ;  your  countenance  darkens  as  soon  as  I  draw 
near  ;  the  smile  vanishes  from  your  lips  ;  your  brow  is  clouded  and 
your  eyes  are  fixed  upon  me  with  almost  an  expression  of  contempt. 
I  see,  madame,  that  you  hate  me !  Well,  then,  hate  me  ;  but  I  do 
not  deserve  your  contempt,  and  I  will  not  endure  it !  It  is  enough 
that  you  martyr  me  to  death  with  your  cutting  coldness,  your  crush- 
ing indifference.  The  world,  at  least,  should  not  know  that  you 
hate  me,  and  I  will  not  be  publicly  humiliated  by  you.  What  did 
I  do  this  morning,  for  example?  Why  were  you  so  cold  and  scorn- 
ful? Wherefore  did  you  check  your  gay  laugh  as  I  entered  thejroom? 
wherefore  did  you  refuse  me  the  little  flower  you  held  in  your  hand, 
and  then  throw  it  carelessly  upon  the  floor?" 

The  princess  looked  at  him  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  You  ask  many  questions,  sir,  and  on  many  points, "  said  she, 
sharply.  "  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  reply  to  them.  Let  us  join 
our  company."  She  bowed  proudly  and  advanced,  but  the  prince 
held  her  back. 

"Do  not  go,"  said  he,  entreatingly,  "do  not  go.  Say  first  that 
you  pardon  me,  that  you  are  no  longer  angry.  Oh,  Wilhelmina, 
you  do  not  know  what  I  suffer ;  you  can  never  know  the  anguish 
which  tortues  my  soul. " 

"I  know  it  well ;  on  the  day  of  our  marriage  your  highness  ex- 
plained all.  It  was  not  necessary  to  return  to  this  bitter  subject. 
I  have  not  forgotten  one  word  spoken  on  that  festive  occasion. " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Wilhelmina?  How  could  I,  on  our  wed- 
ding-day, have  made  known  to  you  the  tortures  which  I  now  suffer ; 
from  which  I  was  then  wholly  free,  and  in  whose  possibility  I  did 
not  believe?" 

"  It  is  possible  that  your  sufferings  have  become  more  intolera- 
ble, "  said  the  princess,  coldly  ;  "  but  you  confided  them  to  me  fully 
and  frankly  at  that  time.  It  was,  indeed,  the  only  time  since  our 
marriage  we  had  any  thing  to  confide.  Our  only  secret  is,  that  we 
do  not  love  and  never  can  love  each  other  ;  that  only  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  are  we  married.     There  is  no  union  of  hearts. " 

"  Oh,  princess,  your  words  are  death  !"  And  completely  overcome, 
he  sank  upon  a  chair. 

Wilhelmina  looked  at  him  coldly,  without  one  trace  of  emotion. 

"Death?"  said  she,  "why  should  I  slay  you?  We  murder  only 
those  whom  we  love  or  hate.     I  neither  love  nor  hate  you. " 

"You  are  only,  then,  entirely  indifferent  to  me,"  asked  the 
prince. 

"I  think,  your  highness,  this  is  what  you  asked  of  me,  on  our 
wedding-day.  I  have  endeavored  to  meet  your  wishes,  and  thereby, 
at  least,  to  prove  to  you  that  I  had  the  virtue  of  obedience.    Ob,  I 


PRINCE  HENRY  AND  HIS  WIFE.  109 

can  never  forget  that  hour, "  cried  the  princess.  "  I  came  a  stranger, 
alone,  ill  from  home-sickness  and  anguish  of  heart,  to  Berlin.  I 
was  betrothed  according  to  the  fate  of  princesses.  I  was  not  con- 
sulted !  I  did  not  know — I  had  never  seen  the  man  to  whom  I  must 
swear  eternal  love  and  faith.  This  was  also  your  sad  fate,  my 
prince.  We  had  never  met.  We  saw  each  other  for  the  first  time 
as  we  stood  before  God's  altar,  and  exchanged  our  vows  to  the  sound 
of  merry  wedding- bells,  and  the  roar  of  cannon.  I  am  always 
tliinking  that  the  bells  ring  and  the  cannon  thunders  at  royal  mar- 
riages, to  drown  the  timid,  trembling  yes,  forced  from  pallid,  un- 
willing lips,  which  rings  in  the  ears  of  God  and  men  like  a  discord 
— like  the  snap  of  a  harp-string.  The  bells  chimed  melodiously. 
No  man  heard  the  yes  at  which  our  poor  hearts  rebelled  !  We  alone 
heard  and  understood  I  You  were  noble,  prince ;  you  had  been 
forced  to  swear  a  falsehood  before  the  altar;  but  in  the  evening, 
when  we  were  alone  in  our  apartment,  you  told  me  the  frank  and 
honest  truth.  State  policy  united  us  ;  we  did  not  and  could  never 
love  each  other !  You  were  amiable  enough  to  ask  me  to  be  your 
friend — your  sister ;  and  to  give  me  an  immediate  proof  of  a 
brother's  confidence,  you  confessed  to  me  that,  with  all  the  ardor 
and  ecstasy  of  your  youthful  heart,  you  had  loved  a  woman  who 
betrayed  you,  and  thus  extinguished  forever  all  power  to  love.  I, 
my  prince,  could  not  follow  your  frank  example,  and  give  a  like 
confidence.  I  had  nothing  to  relate.  I  had  not  loved  I  I  loved  you 
not !  I  was  therefore  grateful  when  you  asked  no  love  from  me. 
You  only  asked  that,  with  calm  indifference,  we  should  remain  side 
by  side,  and  greet  each  other,  before  the  world,  with  the  empty 
titles  of  wife  and  husband.  I  accepted  this  proposal  joyfully,  to 
remain  an  object  of  absolute  indifference  to  you,  and  to  regard  you 
in  the  same  light.  I  cannot,  therefore,  comprehend  why  you  now 
reproach  me." 

"  Yea  !  yes  !  I  said  and  did  all  that, "  said  Prince  Henry,  pale  and 
trembling  with  emotion.  "  I  was  a  madman !  More  than  that,  I 
was  a  blasphemer !  Love  is  as  God — holy,  invisible,  and  eternal ; 
and  he  who  does  not  believe  in  her  immortality,  her  omnipresence, 
is  like  the  heathen,  who  has  faith  only  in  his  gods  of  wood  and 
stone,  and  whose  dull  eyes  cannot  behold  the  invisible  glory  of  the 
Godhead.  My  heart  had  at  that  time  received  its  first  wound,  and 
because  it  bled  and  pained  me  fearfully,  I  believed  it  to  be  dead, 
and  I  covered  it  up  with  bitter  and  cruel  remembrances,  as  in  an 
iron  coffin,  from  which  all  escape  was  impossible.  An  angel  drew 
near,  and  laid  her  soft,  fine  hand  upon  my  coffin  ;  my  wounds  were 
healed,  my  youth  revived,  and  I  dared  hope  in  happiness  and  a 
future.     At  first,  I  would  not  confess  this  to  myself.     At  first,  I 


110       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

thought  to  smother  this  new  birth  of  my  heart  in  the  mourning  veil 
of  my  past  experience ;  but  my  heart  was  like  a  giant  in  his  first 
manhood,  and  cast  off  all  restraint ;  like  Hercules  in  his  cradle,  he 
strangled  the  serpents  which  were  hissing  around  him.  It  was  in- 
deed a  painful  happiness  to  know  that  I  had  again  a  heart ,  that  I 
was  capable  of  feeling  the  raptui'e  and  the  pain,  the  longing,  the 
hopes  and  fears,  the  enthusiasm  and  exaltation,  the  doubt  and  the 
despair  whicli  make  the  passion  of  love,  and  I  have  to  thank  you, 
Wilhelmina— you  alone,  you,  my  wife,  for  this  new  birth.  You 
turn  away  your  head,  Wilhelmina !  You  smile  derisively !  It  is 
true  I  have  not  the  right  to  call  you  my  wife.  You  are  free  to  spurn 
me  from  you,  to  banish  me  forever  into  that  cold,  desert  region  to 
which  I  fled  in  the  madness  and  blindness  of  my  despair.  But  think 
well,  princess  ;  if  you  do  this,  you  cast  a  shadow  over  my  life.  It 
is  my  whole  future  which  I  lay  at  your  feet,  a  future  for  which  fate 
perhaps  intends  great  duties  and  greater  deeds.  I  cannot  fulfil 
these  duties,  I  can  perform  no  heroic  deed,  unless  you,  princess, 
grant  me  the  blessing  of  happiness.  I  shall  be  a  silent,  unknown, 
and  useless  prince,  the  sad  and  pitiful  hanger-on  of  a  throne,  de- 
spised and  unloved,  a  bui'den  only  to  my  people,  unless  you  give 
freedom  and  strength  to  my  sick  soul,  which  lies  a  prisoner  at 
your  feet.  Wilhelmina,  put  an  end  to  the  tortures  of  the  last  few 
months,  release  me  from  the  curse  which  binds  my  whole  life  in 
chains  ;  speak  but  one  word,  and  I  shall  have  strength  to  govern  the 
world,  and  prove  to  you  that  I  am  worthy  of  you.  I  will  force  the 
stars  from  heaven,  and  place  them  as  a  diadem  upon  your  brow. 
Say  only  that  you  will  try  to  love  me,  and  I  will  thank  you  for  hap- 
piness and  fame. " 

Pi'ince  Henry  was  so  filled  with  his  passion  and  enthusiasm,  that 
he  did  not  i-emark  the  deadly  pallor  of  Wilhelmina's  face — that  he 
did  not  see  the  look  of  anguish  and  horror  with  which  her  eyes 
rested  for  one  moment  upon  him,  then  shrank  blushingly  and 
ashamed  upon  the  floor.  He  seized  her  cold,  nerveless  hands,  and 
pressed  them  to  his  heart ;  she  submitted  quietly.  She  seemed 
turned  to  stone. 

"  Be  merciful,  Wilhelmina ;  say  that  you  forgive  me — that  you 
will  try  to  love  me. " 

The  princess  shuddered,  and  glanced  up  at  him.  "J  must  say 
that, "  murmured  she,  "  and  you  have  not  once  said  that  you  love 
me." 

The  prince  shouted  with  rapture,  and,  falling  upon  his  knees, 
he  exclaimed,  "  I  love  you !  I  adore  you !  I  want  nothing,  will  accept 
nothing,  but  you  alone ;  you  are  my  love,  my  hope,  my  future. 
Wilhelmina,  if  you  do  not  intend  me  to  die  at  your  feet,  say  that 


THE  FETE  IN  THE  WOODS:  111 

you  do  not  spurn  me — open  your  arms  and  clasp  me  to  your 
heart." 

The  princess  stood  immovable  for  a  moment,  trembling  and 
swaying  from  side  to  side ;  her  lips  opened  as  if  to  utter  a  wild, 
mad  cry — pain  was  written  on  every  feature.  Tlie  prince  saw  noth- 
ing of  this — his  lips  were  pressed  upon  her  hand,  and  he  did  not  look 
up — he  did  not  see  his  wife  press  her  pale  lips  tightly  together  to 
force  back  her  cries  of  despair — he  did  not  see  that  her  eyes  were 
raised  in  unspeakable  agony  to  heaven. 

The  battle  was  over  ;  the  princess  bowed  over  her  husband,  and 
her  hands  softly  raised  him  from  his  knees.  "Stand  up,  prince — 1 
dare  not  see  you  lying  at  my  feet.  You  have  a  right  to  my  love — 
you  are  my  husband. " 

Prince  Henry  clasped  her  closely,  passionately  in  his  arms. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    FETE    IN    THE    WOODS. 

No  fite  was  ever  brighter  and  gayer  than  that  of  Rheinsberg. 
It  is  true,  the  courtly  circle  waited  a  long  time  before  the  beginning 
of  their  merry  sports.  Hours  passed  before  the  princely  pair  joined 
their  guests  in  the  music-saloon. 

The  sun  of  royalty  came  at  last,  shedding  light  and  gladness. 
Never  had  the  princess  looked  more  beautiful — more  rosy.  She 
seemed,  indeed,  to  blush  at  the  consciousness  of  her  own  attrac- 
tions. Never  had  Prince  Henry  appeared  so  happy,  so  triumphant, 
as  to-day.  His  flashing  eyes  seemed  to  challenge  the  whole  world 
to  compete  with  his  happiness ;  joy  and  hope  danced  in  his  eyes ; 
never  had  he  given  so  gracious,  so  kiudh'  a  greeting  to  every  guest, 
as  to-day. 

The  whole  assembly  was  bright  and  animated,  and  gave  them- 
selves up  heartily  to  the  beautiful  idyl  for  which  they  had  met  to- 
gether under  the  shadow  of  the  noble  trees  in  the  fragrant  woods  of 
Rheinsberg.  No  gayer,  lovelier  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  were 
ever  seen  in  Arcadia,  than  those  of  Rheinsberg  to-day.  They 
laughed,  and  jested,  and  performed  little  comedies,  and  rejoiced  in 
the  innocent  sports  of  the  happy  moment.  Here  wandered  a  shep- 
herd and  his  shepherdess,  chatting  merrily  ;  there,  under  the  shadow 
of  a  mighty  oak,  lay  a  forlorn  shepherd  singing,  accompanied  by  his 
zitter,  a  love-lorn  ditty  to  his  cruel  shepherdess,  who  was  leading 
two  white  lambs  decked  with  ribbons,  in  a  meadow  near  by,  and 
replied  to  his  tepder  pleading  with  mocking  irony.     Upon  the  littl© 


112       rREPERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

lake,  in  the  neighborhood  of  which  they  had  assembled,  the  snow- 
white  swans  swam  majestically  to  and  fro.  The  lovely  shepherdesses 
stood  upon  the  borders  and  enticed  the  swans  around  them,  and 
laughed  derisively  at  the  shepherds  who  had  embarked  in  the  little 
boats,  and  were  now  driven  sportively  back  in  every  direction,  and 
could  find  no  place  to  land. 

Prince  Henry  loved  this  sort  of  fete,  and  often  gave  such  at 
Rheinsberg,  but  never  had  he  seemed  to  enjoy  himself  so  thorcmghly 
as  to-day.  His  guests  generally  sympathized  in  his  happiness,  but 
there  was  one  who  looked  upon  his  joyous  face  with  bitterness. 
This  was  Louise  du  TrouflBe,  once  Louise  von  Kleist,  once  the  be^ 
loved  of  the  prince. 

She  was  married,  and  her  handsome,  amiable,  and  intelligent 
husband  was  ever  by  her  side  ;  but  the  old  wounds  still  burned,  and 
her  pride  bled  at  the  contempt  of  the  prince.  She  knew  he  was 
ignorant  of  the  great  sacrifice  she  had  been  forced  to  make — that  he 
despised,  in  place  of  admiring  and  pitying  her. 

The  prince,  in  order  to  show  his  utter  indifference,  had  invited 
her  husband  and  herself  to  court.  In  the  pride  of  his  sick  and 
wovmded  heart,  he  resolved  to  convince  the  world  that  the  beautiful 
Louise  von  Kleist  had  not  scorned  and  rejected  his  love.  In  her 
presence  he  resolved  to  show  his  yoimg  wife  the  most  lover-like 
attentions,  and  prove  to  his  false  mistress  that  he  neither  sought  nor 
fled  from  her — that  he  had  utterly  forgotten  her. 

But  Louise  was  not/ deceived  by  this  acting.  She  understood 
him  thoroughly,  and  knew  better  than  the  prince  himself,  that  his 
indifference  was  assumed,  and  his  contempt  and  scorn  was  a  veil 
thrown  over  his  betrayed  and  quivering  heart  to  conceal  his  suffer- 
ings from  her.  Louise  had  the  courage  to  accept  Prince  Henry's 
invitations,  and  to  take  part  in  all  the  festivities  with  which  he 
ostentatiously  celebrated  his  happiness.  She  liad  the  courage  to 
receive  his  cutting  coldness,  his  cruel  sarcasm,  his  contempt,  with 
calm  composure  and  sweet  submission.  With  the  smile  of  a  stoic, 
she  offered  her  defenceless  breast  to  his  poisoned  arrows,  and  even 
the  tortures  she  endured  were  precious  in  her  sight.  She  was  con- 
vinced tliat  the  prince  had  not  relinquished  or  forgotten  her — that 
his  indifference  and  contempt  was  assumed  to  hide  his  living, 
breathing  love.  For  some  time  past  the  change  in  tlie  manners  and 
bearing  of  the  prince  had  not  escaped  the  sharp,  searching  glance  of 
the  experienced  coquette.  For  a  long  time  he  appeared  not  to  see 
her — now  she  felt  that  he  did  not  see  her.  He  had  been  wont  to  say 
the  most  indiffei-ent  things  to  her  in  a  fierce,  excited  tone — now  he 
was  self-possessed,  and  spoke  to  her  softly  and  kindly. 

" "Rie  wound  hps  heal?d, "  §^\<\  Louise  dw  TrouflS?  \Q  Uejr^ejf .    "  He 


THE  FETE  IN  THE  WOODS.  113 

no  longer  scorns  becaiise  he  no  longer  loves  me. "  But  she  did  not 
know  that  he  had  not  only  ceased  to  love  her,  but  loved  another 
passionately.  This  suspicion  was  excited,  however,  for  the  first 
time  to-day.  In  the  flasliing  eye,  the  glad  smile,  the  proud  glance 
which  he  fixed  upon  his  fair  young  wife,  Louise  discovered  that 
Henry  had  buried  the  old  love  and  a  new  one  had  risen  from  its 
ashes.  This  knowledge  tortured  her  heart  in  a  wild  storm  of  jealousy. 
She  forgot  all  considerations  of  prudence,  all  fear,  even  of  the  king. 
She  had  been  compelled  to  relinquish  the  hand  of  the  prince,  but 
she  would  not  lose  him  wholly.  Perhaps  he  would  return  to  her 
when  he  knew  what  a  fearful  offering  she  had  made  to  him.  He 
would  recognize  her  innocence,  and  mourn  over  the  tortures  he  had 
inflicted  during  the  last  year.  She  would  try  this !  She  would 
play  her  last  trump,  and  dare  all  with  the  hope  of  winning. 

There  stood  the  prince  under  the  shadow  of  a  large  tree,  gazing 
dreamily  at  his  wife,  who,  with  other  shepherdesses,  and  her  shep- 
herd. Count  Kalkreuth,  was  feeding  the  swans  on  the  border  of  the 
lake.  The  prince  was  alone,  and  Louise  rashly  resolved  to  approach 
him.  He  greeted  her  with  a  slight  nod,  and  turning  his  eyes  again 
upon  his  wife,  he  said,  carelessly,  "Are  you  also  here,  Madame  du 
Trouffle?" 

"  Your  royal  highness  did  me  the  honor  to  invite  me — I  am  accus- 
tomed to  obey  your  wishes,  and  I  am  here. " 

"  That  is  kind, "  said  the  prince,  abstractedly,  still  glancing  at 
the  princess. 

Louise  sighed  deeply,  and  stepping  nearer,  she  said,  "Are  you 
still  angry  with  me,  my  prince?    Have  you  never  forgiven  me?" 

"What?"  said  the  prince,  quietly;  "I  do  not  remember  that  I 
have  any  thing  to  forgive. " 

"  Ah,  I  see !  you  despise  me  still,  "  said  Louise,  excitedly  ;  "  but 
I  will  bear  this  no  longer  I  I  wiU  no  longer  creep  about  like  a  cul- 
prit, bm-dened  with  your  curse  and  your  scorn.  You  shall  at  least 
know  what  it  cost  me  to  earn  your  contempt — what  a  fearful  sacri  • 
fice  I  was  compelled  to  make  to  secure  your  supposed  personal  hap- 
piness. I  gave  up  for  you  the  happiness  of  my  life,  but  I  can  and 
will  no  longer  fill  a  place  of  shame  in  your  memory.  If,  from  time 
to  time,  your  highness  thinks  of  me,  you  shall  do  me  justice !" 

"  I  think  no  longer  of  you  in  anger, "  said  the  prince,  smiling. 
"  That  sorrow  has  long  since  passed  away. " 

"  From  your  heart,  prince,  but  not  from  mine  I  My  heart  bleeds, 
and  will  bleed  eternally  I  You  must  not  only  forgive — you  must 
do  me  justice.  Listen,  then  ;  and  so  truly  as  there  is  a  God  above 
us,  I  will  speak  the  tuth.  I  did  not  betray  you — I  was  not  faithless. 
My  heart  and  my  gotij  J  Jj^id  gladlj^  at  your  feet,  and  thanked  Go<i 


lU        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

for  the  fulness  of  my  happiness.  My  thoughts,  my  existence,  my 
future,  was  chained  to  you.  I  had  no  other  will,  no  other  wish,  no 
other  hope.     I  was  your  slave — I  wanted  nothing  but  your  love. " 

"  Ah,  and  then  came  this  Monsieur  du  Trouffle,  and  broke  your 
fetters — gave  your  heart  liberty  and  wings  for  a  new  flight, "  said 
Prince  Henry. 

"No,  then  came  the  king  and  commanded  me  to  give  you  up," 
murmured  Louise ;  "  then  came  the  king,  and  forced  me  to  offer  up 
myself  and  my  great  love  to  your  future  welfare.  Oh,  my  prince  I 
recall  that  terrible  hour  in  which  we  separated.  I  said  to  you  that 
I  had  betrothed  myself  to  Captain  du  Trouffle — that  of  my  own  free 
choice,  and  influenced  by  love  alone,  I  gave  myself  to  him. " 

"  I  remember  that  hour. " 

"Well,  then,  in  that  hour  we  were  not  alone.  The  king  was 
concealed  behind  the  portiere,  and  listened  to  my  words.  He  dic- 
tated them ! — he  threatened  me  with  destruction  if  I  betrayed  his 
presence  by  look  or  word  ;  if  I  gave  you  reason  to  suspect  that  I  did 
not,  of  my  own  choice  and  lovingly,  give  myself  to  this  unloved, 
yes,  this  hated  man  !  I  yielded  only  after  the  most  fearful  contest 
with  the  king,  to  whom,  upon  my  knees  and  bathed  in  tears,  I 
pleaded  for  pity. " 

"  What  means  could  the  king  use,  what  threats  could  he  utter, 
which  forced  you  to  such  a  stepV"  said  the  prince,  incredulously. 
"Did  he  threaten  you  with  death  if  you  did  not  obey?  When  one 
truly  loves,  death  has  no  terrors  !  Did  he  say  he  would  murder  me 
if  you  did  not  release  me?  You  knew  I  had  a  strong  arm  and  a 
stronger  will ;  you  should  have  trusted  both.  You  placed  your  fate 
in  my  hands ;  you  should  have  obeyed  no  other  commands  than 
mine.  And  now  shall  I  speak  the  whole  truth?  I  do  not  believe  in 
this  sacrifice  on  your  part ;  it  would  have  required  more  than  mortal 
strength,  and  it  would  have  been  cruel  in  the  extreme.  You  saw 
what  I  suffered.  My  heart  was  torn  with  anguish  !  No,  madame, 
no ;  you  did  not  make  this  sacrifice,  or,  if  you  did,  you  loved  me 
not.  If  you  had  loved  me,  you  could  not  have  seen  me  suffer  so 
cruelly  ;  you  would  have  told  the  truth,  even  in  the  presence  of  the 
king.  No  earthly  power  can  control  true  love  ;  she  is  self -sustained 
and  makes  her  own  laws.  No !  no !  I  do  not  believe  in  this  offering ; 
and  you  make  this  excuse  either  to  heal  my  sick  heart,  or  because 
your  pride  is  mortified  at  my  want  of  consideration ;  you  wish  to 
recover  my  good  opinion. " 

"  Alas !  alas  !  he  does  not  believe  me, "  cried  Louise. 

"No,  I  do  not  believe  you,"  said  the  prince,  kindly;  "and  yet 
you  must  not  think  that  I  am  still  angry.  I  not  only  forgive,  but  I 
thank  yovj.    It  is  to  you,  indeed.  Louise,  that  I  ow^  xoj  present 


THE  FETE  IN  THE  WOODS.  115 

happiness,  all  those  noble  and  pure  joys  which  a  true  love  bestows. 
I  thank  you  for  this — you  and  the  king.  It  was  wise  in  the  king  to 
deny  me  that  which  I  then  thought  essential  to  my  happiness,  but 
which  would,  at  last,  have  brought  us  both  to  shame  and  to  despair. 
The  love,  which  must  shun  the  light  of  day  and  hide  itself  in  ob- 
scurity, pales,  and  withei*s,  and  dies.  Happy  love  must  have  the 
sunlight  of  heaven  and  God's  blessing  upon  it!  All  this  failed  in 
our  case,  and  it  was  a  blessing  for  us  both  that  you  saw  it  clearly, 
and  resigned  a  doubtful  happiness  at  my  side  for  surer  i)eace  with 
Monsieur  du  Trouffle.  From  my  soul  1  thank  you,  Louise.  See 
what  a  costly  treasure  has  bloomed  for  me  from  the  grave  of  my  be- 
trayed love.  Look  at  that  lovely  young  woman  who,  although  dis 
guised  as  a  shepherdess,  stands  out  in  the  midst  of  all  other  women, 
an  imperial  queen  !  a  queen  of  beauty,  gi*ace,  and  fascination  !  This 
cliarming,  innocent,  and  modest  young  woman  belongs  to  me  ;  she 
is  my  wife  ;  and  I  have  your  inconstancy  to  thank  you  for  this  rare 
gem.  Oh,  madame,  I  have  indeed  reason  to  forgive  you  for  the 
past,  to  be  grateful  to  you  as  long  as  I  live.  But  for  you  I  should 
never  have  married  the  Princess  Wilhelmina.  What  no  menaces, 
no  entreaties,  no  commands  of  the  king  could  accomplish,  your 
faithlessness  effected.  I  married  !  God,  in  his  goodness,  chose  you 
to  be  a  mediator  between  me  and  my  fate  ;  it  was  His  will  that, 
from  your  hand,  I  should  receive  my  life's  blessing.  You  cured  me 
of  a  wandering  and  unworthy  passion,  that  I  might  feel  the  truth 
and  enjoy  the  blessing  of  a  pure  love,  and  a  love  which  now  fills  my 
heart  and  soul,  my  thoughts,  my  existence  for  my  darling  wife. " 

"  Ah,  you  are  very  cruel, "  said  Lousie,  scarcely  able  to  suppress 
her  tears  of  rage. 

"I  am  only  true,  madame,"  said  the  prince,  smiling.  "You 
wished  to  know  of  me  if  I  were  still  angry  with  you,  and  I  reply 
that  I  have  not  only  forgiven,  but  I  bless  your  inconstancy.  And 
now,  I  pray  you  let  us  end  this  conversation,  which  I  will  never 
renew.  Let  the  past  die  and  be  buried  !  We  have  both  of  us  com- 
menced a  new  life  under  the  sunshine  of  a  new  love  ;  we  will  not 
allow  any  cloud  of  remembrances  to  cast  a  shadow  upon  it.  Look, 
the  beautiful  shepherdesses  are  seeking  flowers  in  the  meadows,  and 
my  wife  stands  alone  upon  the  borders  of  the  lake.  Allow  me  to 
join  her,  if  only  to  see  if  the  clear  waters  of  the  lake  reflect  back  her 
image  as  lovely  and  enchanting  as  the  reality. " 

The  prince  bowed,  and  with  hasty  steps  took  the  path  that  led  to 
the  lake. 

Louise  looked  at  him  scornfully.  "  He  despises  me  and  he  loves 
her  fondly  ;  but  she — does  the  princess  love  him  ? — not  so  !  her  glance 
is  cold,  icy.  when  she  looks  upon  him ;  and  to-day  I  saw  her  turn 


116       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

pale  aa  the  prince  approached  her.  No,  she  loves  him  not ;  but  who 
then — who?  she  is  young,  ardent,  and,  it  appears  to  me,  impressi- 
ble ;  she  cannot  live  without  love.  I  will  find  out ;  a  day  will  come 
when  I  will  take  vengeance  for  this  hour.     I  await  that  day  !" 

While  Louise  forced  herself  to  appear  gay,  in  order  to  meet  her 
husband  without  embarrassment,  and  the  prince  walked  hastily  on  • 
ward,  the  princess  stood  separated  from  her  ladies,  on  the  borders  of 
the  lake,  with  the  Count  Klalkreuth  at  her  side.  The  count  had  been 
api)ointed  her  cavalier  for  the  day,  by  the  prince  her  husband  ;  she 
seemed  to  give  her  undivided  attention  to  the  swans,  who  were 
floating  before  her,  and  stretching  out  their  graceful  necks  to  receive 
food  from  her  hands.  As  she  bowed  down  to  feed  the  swans,  she 
whispered  lightly,  "  Listen,  count,  to  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  If 
possible,  laugh  merrily,  that  my  ladies  may  hear ;  let  your  counte- 
nance be  gay,  for  I  see  the  prince  approaching.  In  ten  minutes  he 
will  be  with  us  ;  do  you  understand  my  low  tones?" 

" I  tmderstand  you,  princess;  alas!  I  fear  I' understand  without 
words  ;  I  have  read  my  sentence  in  the  eyes  of  your  husband.  Tlie 
prince  suspects  me. " 

"  No, "  said  she,  sadly  bowing  down  and  plucking  a  few  violets, 
which  she  threw  to  the  swans ;  "  he  has  no  suspicion,  but  he  loves 
me." 

The  coimt  sprang  back  as  if  woimded.  "  He  loves  you  !"  he  cried, 
in  a  loud,  almost  threatening  tone. 

"  For  pity '  s  sake  speak  low, "  said  the  princess.  "  Look,  the  ladies 
turn  toward  us,  and  are  listening  curiously,  and  you  have  frightened 
the  swans  from  the  shore.  Laugh,  I  pray  you ;  speak  a  few  loud 
and  jesting  words,  count,  I  implore  you. " 

"  I  cannot, "  said  the  count.  "  Command  me  to  throw  myself  into 
the  lake  and  I  will  obey  you  joyfully,  and  in  dying  I  will  call  your 
name  and  bless  it ;  but  do  not  ask  me  to  smile  when  you  tell  me  that 
the  prince  loves  you. " 

"Yes,  he  loves  me;  he  confessed  it  to-day,"  said  the  princess, 
shuddering.  "  Oh,  it  was  a  moment  of  inexpressible  horror  ;  a  mo- 
ment in  which  that  became  a  sin  which,  until  then,  had  been  pure 
and  innocent.  So  long  as  my  husband  did  not  love  me,  or  ask  my 
love,  I  was  free  to  bestow  it  where  I  would  and  when  I  would ; 
BO  soon  as  he  loves  me,  and  demands  my  love,  I  am  a  culprit  if  I 
refvise  it." 

"And  I  false  to  my  friend,"  murmured  Kalkreuth. 

"  We  must  instantly  separate, "  whispered  she.  "  We  must  bury 
our  love  out  of  our  sight,  which  until  now  has  lived  purely  and 
modestly  in  our  hearts,  and  this  must  be  its  funeral  procession. 
You  see  I  have  already  begtm  to  deck  the  grave  with  flowers,  and 


THE  FETE  IN  THE  WOODS.  117 

that  tears  are  consecrating  them."    She  pointed  with  her  jewelled 
hand  to  the  bouquet  of  white  camelias  which  adorned  her  bosom. 

"  It  was  cruel  not  to  wear  my  flowers, "  said  the  count.  "  Was  it 
not  enough  to  crush  me? — must  you  also  trample  my  poor  flowers, 
consecrated  with  my  kisses  and  my  whispers,  imder  your  feet?" 

"  The  red  roses  which  you  gave  me, "  said  she,  lightly,  "  I  will 
keep  as  a  remembrance  of  the  beautiful  and  glorious  dream  which 
the  rude  reality  of  life  has  dissipated.  These  camelias  are  superb, 
but  without  fragrance,  and  colorless  as  my  sad  features.  I  must 
wear  them,  for  my  husband  gave  them  to  me,  and  in  so  doing  I 
decorate  the  grave  of  my  love.  Farewell ! — hereafter  I  will  live  for 
my  duties  ;  as  I  cannot  accept  your  love,  I  will  merit  your  highest 
respect.  Farewell,  and  if  from  this  time  onward  we  are  cold  and 
strange,  never  forget  that  our  souls  belong  to  each  other,  and  when 
I  dare  no  longer  think  of  the  past,  I  will  pray  for  you. " 

"You  never  loved  me,"  whispered  the  count,  with  pallid,  trem- 
bling lips,  "  or  you  could  not  give  me  up  so  rashly  ;  you  would  not 
have  the  cruel  corn-age  to  spurn  me  from  you.  You  are  weary  of 
me,  and  since  the  prince  loves  you,  you  despise  the  poor  humble 
heart  which  laid  itself  at  your  feet.  Yes,  yes,  I  cannot  compete 
with  this  man,  who  is  a  prince  and  the  brother  of  a  king ;  who — " 

"  Who  is  my  husband, "  cried  she,  proudly,  "  and  who,  while  he 
loves  me,  dares  ask  that  I  shall  accept  his  love. " 

"Ah,  now  you  are  angry  with  me,"  stammered  the  count; 
"you-" 

" Hush  !"  whispered  she,  " do  you  not  see  the  prince?  Do  laugh ! 
Bow  down  and  give  the  swans  these  flowers  1" 

The  count  took  the  flowers,  and  as  he  gave  them  to  the  swans,  he 
whispered : 

"  Give  me  at  least  a  sign  that  you  are  not  angry,  and  that  you  do 
not  love  the  prince.  Throw  this  hated  bouquet,  which  has  taken 
the  place  of  mine,  into  the  water  ;  it  is  like  a  poisoned  arrow  in  my 
heart." 

"  Hush !"  whispered  the  princess.  She  ttirned  and  gave  the  prince 
a  friendly  welcome. 

Prince  Henry  was  so  happy  in  her  presence,  and  so  dazzled  by 
her  beauty,  that  he  did  not  remark  the  melancholy  of  the  count, 
and  spoke  with  him  gayly  and  jestingly,  while  the  covmt  mastered 
himself,  and  replied  in  the  same  spirit. 

The  princess  bowed  down  to  the  swans,  whom  she  enticed  once 
more  with  caresses  to  the  borders  of  the  lake.  Suddenly  she  uttered 
a  loud  cry,  and  called  to  the  two  gentlemen  for  help.  The  great 
white  swan  had  torn  the  camelias  from  the  bosom  of  the  princess, 
^nd  8?iiled  off  proudly  upoii  the  ol^g,}-  wat'ers  of  tb?  lakd 


118       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 
CHAPTER    V. 

INTRIOUES. 

While  Prince  Henry  celebrated  Arcadian  f^x»  at  Rheinsberg, 
and  gave  himself  up  to  love  and  joy,  King  Frederick  lived  in  phil- 
osophic retirement  at  Sans-Souci.  He  came  to  Berlin  only  to  visit 
the  queen -mother,  now  dangerously  ill,  or  to  attend  the  meetings  of 
his  cabinet  ministers.  Never  had  the  king  lived  so  quietly,  never 
had  he  received  so  few  guests  at  Sans-Souci,  and,  above  all,  never 
had  the  world  so  little  cause  to  speak  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  He 
appeared  content  with  the  laurels  which  the  two  Silesian  wars  had 
placed  upon  his  heroic  brow,  and  he  only  indulged  the  wish  that 
Europe,  exhausted  by  her  long  and  varied  wars,  would  allow  him 
that  rest  and  peace  which  the  world  at  large  seemed  to  enjoy. 

Those  who  were  honored  with  invitations  to  Sans-Souci,  and  had 
opportunities  to  see  the  king,  could  only  speak  of  that  earthly  para- 
dise ;  of  the  peaceful  stillness  which  reigned  there,  and  which  was 
reflected  in  every  countenance ;  of  Frederick's  calm  cheerfulness 
and  innocent  enjoyment. 

"  The  king  thinks  no  more  of  politics, "  said  the  frolicsome  Ber- 
liners  ;  "  he  is  absorbed  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  and.  above  all  other 
things,  he  lives  to  promote  the  peaceful  prosperity  of  his  people." 

The  balance  of  power  and  foreign  relations  troubled  him  no 
longer ;  he  wished  for  no  conquests,  and  thought  not  of  war.  In 
the  morning  he  was  occupied  with  scientific  works,  wrote  in  his 
"  Histoire  de  mon  Temps, "  or  to  his  friends,  and  took  part  in  the 
daily -recurring  duties  of  the  government.  The  remainder  of  the 
day  was  passed  in  the  garden  of  Sans-Souci,  in  pleasant  walks  and 
animated  conversation,  closing  always  with  music.  Concerts  took 
place  every  evening  in  the  apartments  of  the  king,  in  which  he 
took  part,  and  he  practised  difficult  pieces  of  his  own  or  Quantz's 
composition,  under  Quantz's  direction.  From  time  to  time  he  was 
much  occupied  with  his  picture-gallery,  and  sent  Gotzkowsky  to 
Italy  to  purchase  the  paintings  of  the  celebrated  masters. 

King  Frederick  appeared  to  have  reached  his  goal ;  at  least,  that 
which,  during  the  storm  of  war,  he  had  often  called  his  ideal ;  he 
could  devote  his  life  to  philosophy  and  art  in  the  enchanting  retire- 
ment of  his  beloved  Sans-Souci.  The  tumult  and  discord  of  the 
world  did  not  trouble  him  ;  in  fact,  the  whole  world  seemed  to  be  at 
peace,  and  all  Europe  was  glad  and  happy. 

Maria  Theresa  was  completely  bound  by  the  last  peace  contract 
»t  Dresden ;  besides,  the  two  Silesian  wars  had  weakened  and  ini. 


INTMGUES.  119 

poverished  Austria,  and  time  was  necessary  to  heal  her  wounds  be- 
fore she  dared  make  a  uew  attempt  to  reconquer  the  noble  jewel  of 
Silesia,  which  Frederick  had  torn  from  her  crown.  Notwithstand- 
ing her  pious  and  Christian  pretensions,  she  hated  Frederick  with 
her  whole  heart. 

England  had  allied  herself  with  Russia.  France  waa  at  the 
moment  too  much  occupied  with  the  pageants  which  the  lovely 
Marquise  de  Pompadour  celebrated  at  Versailles,  not  to  be  in  peace 
and  harmony  with  all  the  world  ;  yes,  even  with  her  natural  enemy, 
Austria.  Count  Kaunitz,  her  ambassador  at  Paris,  had,  by  his  wise 
ana  adroit  conduct,  banished  tlie  cloud  of  mistrust  which  had  so 
long  lowered  between  these  two  powers. 

This  was  the  state  of  things  at  the  close  of  the  year  1775.  Then 
was  the  general  quiet  interrupted  by  the  distant  echo  of  a  cannon. 
Europe  was  startled,  and  rose  up  from  her  comfortable  siesta  to 
listen  and  inquire  after  the  cause  of  this  significant  thunderbolt. 

This  roar  of  cannon,  whose  echo  only  had  been  heard,  had  its 
birth  far,  far  away  in  America.  The  cannon,  however,  had  been 
nred  by  a  European  power — by  England,  always  distinguished  for 
her  calculating  selfishness,  which  she  wished  the  world  to  consider 
praiseworthy  and  honorable  policy.  England  considered  her  mer- 
cantile interests  in  America  endangered  by  France,  and  she  thirsted 
with  desire  to  have  not  only  an  East  India  but  a  West  India  com- 
pany. The  French  colonies  in  America  had  long  excited  the  envy 
and  covetousness  of  England,  and  as  a  suflScient  cause  for  war  had 
utterly  failed,  she  was  bold  enough  to  take  the  initiative  without 
excuse ! 

In  the  midst  of  a  general  peace,  and  without  any  declaration  of 
•war,  she  seized  upon  a  country  lying  on  the  borders  of  the  Ohio 
River,  and  belonging  to  French  Canada,  made  an  attack  upon  some 
hundred  merchant-ships,  which  were  navigating  the  Ohio,  under 
the  protection  of  the  ships-of-war,  and  took  them  as  prizes.* 

That  was  the  cannon-shot  which  roused  all  Evurope  from  her 
comfortable  sliunber  and  dreamy  rest. 

The  Empress  of  Austria  began  to  make  warlike  preparations  in 
Bohemia,  and  to  assemble  her  troops  on  the  borders  of  Saxony  and 
Bohemia.  The  Empress  of  Russia  discontinued  instantaneously  her 
luxurious  feasts  and  wild  orgies,  armed  her  soldiers,  and  placed 
them  on  the  borders  of  Courland.  She  formed  an  immediate  alli- 
ance with  England,  by  which  she  bound  herself  to  protect  tlie  terri- 
tory of  George  11.  in  Gtermany,  if  attacked  by  France,  in  retaliation 
for  the  French  merchant-ships  taken  by  England  on  the  Ohio  River. 
Hanover,  however,  was  excepted,  as  Frederick  of  Prussia  might 
'*'  "  Characteristics  of  the  Important  Events  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,"  by  Retson. 


120       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

possibly  give  her  his  aid.  For  this  promised  aid,  Russia  received 
from  EIngland  the  sum  of  £150,000  sterling,  which  was  truly  wel- 
come to  the  powerful  Bestuchef ,  from  the  extravagant  and  pomp- 
loving  minister  of  the  queen. 

Saxony  also  prepai-ed  for  war,  and  placed  her  army  on  the  bor- 
ders of  Prussia,  for  which  she  received  a  subsidy  from  Austria. 
This  was  as  gladly  welcomed  by  Coimt  Bruhl,  the  luxurious  minis- 
ter of  King  Augustus  the  Third  of  Poland  and  Saxony,  as  the  English 
subsidy  was  by  Bestuchef. 

The  King  of  France  appeared  to  stand  alone  ;  even  as  completely 
alone  as  Frederick  of  Prussia.  Every  eye  therefore  was  naturally 
fixed  upon  these  two  powers,  who  seemed  thus  forced  by  fate  to 
extend  the  hand  of  fellowship  to  each  other,  and  form  such  an 
alliance  as  England  had  done  with  Russia,  and  Austria  with 
Saxony. 

This  contract  between  Prussia  and  France  would  have  been  the 
signal  for  a  general  war,  for  which  all  the  powers  of  Europe  were 
now  arming  themselves.  But  France  did  not  extend  her  hand  soon 
enough  to  obtain  the  friendship  of  Prussia.  Fi-ance  distrusted 
Prussia,  even  as  Austria,  England,  Russia,  and  Saxony  distrusted 
and  feared  the  adroit  young  adventurer,  who  in  the  last  fifty  years 
had  placed  himself  firmly  amongst  the  great  powers  of  Europe,  and 
was  bold,  brave,  and  wise  enough  to  hold  a  powerful  and  self -sus- 
tained position  in  their  circle. 

France— that  is  to  say,  Louis  the  Fifteenth — France — that  is  to 
say,  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour,  hated  the  King  of  Prussia  man- 
fully. By  his  bold  wit  he  had  often  brought  the  French  court  and 
its  immoralities  into  ridicule  and  contempt. 

Austria  and  her  minister  Kaunitz  and  Maria  Theresa  hated 
Frederick  of  Prussia,  because  of  his  conquest  of  Silesia. 

Russia— that  is  to  say,  Elizabeth  and  Bestuchef — hated  the  King 
of' Prussia  for  the  same  reason  with  France.  Frederick's  cutting 
wit  had  scourged  the  manners  of  the  Russian  court,  as  it  had  humili- 
ated and  exposed  the  court  of  France. 

Saxony — that  is  to  say,  Augustus  the  Third,  and  his  2(iinister, 
Count  Brflhl — hated  Frederick  from  instinct,  from  envy,  from 
resentment.  This  insignificant  and  small  neighbor  had  spread  her 
wings  and  made  so  bold  a  flight,  that  Saxony  was  completely  over- 
shadowed. 

England  hated  no  one,  but  she  feared  Prussia  and  France,  and 
this  fear  led  her  to  master  the  old-rooted  national  hatred  to  Russia, 
and  form  an  alliance  with  her  for  mutual  protection.  But  the  Eng- 
lish people  did  not  share  the  fears  of  their  king;  they  murmured 
over  this  Russian  ally,  and  this  discontent,  which  foimd  expression 


INTRIGUES.  121 

in  Parliament,    rang  so  loudly,   that  Frederick  might  well  have 
heard  it,  and  formed  his  own  conclusions  as  to  the  result. 

But  did  he  hear  it?  Was  the  sound  of  his  flute  so  loud?  "Was 
his  study  hermetically  sealed,  so  that  no  echo  from  the  outside 
world  could  reach  his  ears? 

There  was  no  interruption  to  his  quiet,  peaceful  life ;  he  hated 
nobody,  made  no  warlike  preparations ;  his  soldiers  exercised  no 
more  than  formerly.  Truly  they  exercised  ;  and  at  the  first  call  to 
battle,  150,000  men  would  be  under  arms. 

But  Frederick  seemed  not  inclined  to  give  this  call ;  not  inclined 
,to  exchange  the  calm  pleasures  of  Sans-Souci  for  the  rude  noises  of 
tents  and  battle-fields.  He  seemed  to  be  in  peaceful  harmony  with 
all  nations.  He  was  particularly  friendly  and  conciliating  toward 
the  Austrian  embassy ;  and  not  only  was  the  ambassador.  Count 
Peubla  invited  often  to  the  royal  table,  but  his  secretary.  Baron 
Weingarten,  came  also  to  Potsdam  and  Sans-Souci.  The  king  ap- 
peared attached  to  him,  and  encouraged  him  to  come  often,  to  walk 
in  the  royal  gardens. 

Frederick  was  gracious  and  kind  toward  the  ofiicials  of  all  the 
GeiTuan  powers.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  wife  of  Councillor 
Reichart,  attached  to  the  Saxon  embassy,  was  confined,  at  Frederick's 
earnest  wish,  his  private  secretaiy,  Eichel,  stood  as  god-father  to 
the  child.  * 

In  order  to  promote  good  feeling  in  Saxony,  the  king  sent  Count 
Mattzahn,  one  of  the  most  eloquent  cavaliers  of  the  day,  to  the 
Dresden  court ;  and  so  well  supplied  was  he,  that  he  dared  compete 
in  pomp  and  splendor  with  Count  Briihl. 

Frederick  appeared  to  attach  special  importance  to  the  friendship 
of  Saxony,  and  with  none  of  his  foreign  ambassadors  was  he  engaged 
in  so  active  a  correspondence  as  with  Mattzahn.  It  was  said  that 
these  letters  were  of  a  harmless  and  innocent  nature,  relating  wholly 
to  paintings,  which  the  count  was  to  purchase  from  the  Saxon  gal- 
leries, or  to  music,  which  Frederick  wished  to  obtain  from  amongst 
the  collection  of  the  dead  Hesse,  or  to  an  Italian  singer  Frederick 
wished  to  entice  to  Berlin. 

The  world  no  longer  favored  Frederick's  retirement.  The  less 
disposed  he  was  to  mingle  in  politics,  tlie  more  Maria  Theresa, 
Elizabeth  of  Russia,  Augustus  of  Saxony,  and  the  Marquise  de 
Pompadour  agitated  the  subject. 

France  had  not  forgotten  that  the  contract  between  herself  and 
Prussia  was  about  to  expire.  She  knew  also  that  the  subsidy  money 
between  England  and  Russia  had  not  yet  been  voted  by  Parliament. 
It  was  therefore  possible  to  reap  some  advantages  from  this  point. 

*  "  Characteristics  of  the  Important  Events  of  the  Seven  Years'  War. " 
9 


132       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

With  this  view,  France  sent  the  Duke  de  Nivernois  as  special  am- 
bassador to  Berlin,  to  treat  with  the  king  as  to  the  renewal  of  the 
old  alliance. 

The  Duke  de  NiTemois  came  with  a  glittering  suite  to  Berlin, 
and  was  received  at  the  Prussian  court  with  all  the  considei'ation 
which  his  rank  and  official  character  demanded.  The  grand  master 
of  ceremonies,  Baron  von  Pollnitz,  was  sent  forward  to  meet  him, 
and  to  invite  him,  in  the  name  of  the  king,  to  occupy  one  of  the 
royal  palaces  in  Berlin. 

Every  room  of  the  palace  was  splendidly  decorated  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  duke,  and  aS  soon  as  he  aiTived,  two  guards  were  placed 
before  the  house — a  mark  of  consideration  which  the  king  had  only 
heretofore  given  to  reigning  princes. 

The  duke  accepted  these  distinguished  attentions  with  lively 
gratitude,  and  pleaded  for  an  immediate  audience,  in  order  to  pre- 
sent his  credentials. 

Pollnitz  was  commissioned  to  make  all  necessary  aiTangemencs, 
and  agree  with  the  duke  as  to  the  day  and  hour  of  the  ceremony. 

The  king,  who  wished  to  give  the  French  duke  a  proof  of  his 
consideration,  intended  that  the  presentation  should  be  as  imposing 
as  possible,  and  all  Berlin  was  to  be  witness  of  the  friendship  exist- 
ing between  the  French  and  Prussian  courts. 

Upon  the  appointed  day,  a  dazzling  assemblage  of  equipages 
stood  before  the  palace  of  the  Duke  de  Nivernois.  These  were  the 
royal  festal  carriages,  intended  for  the  members  of  the  Fi-ench  em- 
bassy. Then  followed  a  long  line  of  carriages,  occupied  by  the  dis- 
tinguished members  of  the  Prussian  court.  Slowly  and  solemnly 
this  pompous  procession  moved  through  the  sti'eets,  and  was  received 
at  the  portal  of  the  king's  palace  by  the  royal  guard.  Richly-dressed 
pages,  in  advance  of  whom  stood  the  grand  master  of  ceremonies 
with  his  golden  sta.  .  conducted  the  French  ambassador  to  the 
White  saloon,  where  the  king,  in  all  his  royal  pomp,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  princes  of  his  house,  received  him. 

The  solemn  ceremony  began ;  the  duke  drew  near  the  throno, 
and,  bowing  his  knee,  handed  his  credentials  to  the  king,  who 
received  them  with  a  gracious  smile. 

The  duke  commenced  his  address;  it  was  filled  with  flowery 
phrases,  suited  to  the  great  occasion.  Frederick  listened  with  the 
most  earnest  attention,  and  his  reply  was  kind,  but  dignified  and 
laconic. 

The  public  ceremony  was  over,  and  now  came  the  important  part 
of  the  audience,  the  confidential  conversation.  To  this  point  the 
duke  had  looked  with  lively  impatience;  for  this,  indeed,  had  he 
been  sent  to  Berlin. 


INTRIGUES.  123 

The  king  descended  from  the  throne,  and  laying  aside  all  the 
solemnity  of  court  etiquette,  he  approached  the  duke  in  the  most 
gracious  and  genial  manner,  welcomed  him  heartily,  and  expressed 
his  sincere  delight  at  his  aiTival. 

"Ah,  sire,"  said  the  duke,  with  animation,  how  happy  will  my 
king  be  to  learn  that  his  ambassador  has  been  so  graciously  received 
by  your  majesty !" 

The  king  smiled.  "  I  thought  the  ceremony  was  all  over, "  saia 
he,  "and  that  I  no  longer  spoke  with  the  ambassador,  but  with  the 
Duke  de  Nivemois,  whom  I  know  and  love,  and  whose  intellectual 
conversation  will  afford  me  a  rare  pleasure?  Let  us,  therefore,  chat 
together  innocently,  and  forget  the  stiff  ceremonies  with  which,  I 
think,  we  have  both  been  suflSciently  burdened  to-day.  Tell  me 
something  of  Paris,  monsieur,  of  that  lovely,  enchanting,  but  over- 
bold coquette,  Paris,  whom  the  world  adores  while  it  ridicules,  and 
imitates  while  it  blames." 

"Ah,  sire,  if  I  must  speak  of  Paris,  I  must  first  tell  you  of  my 
king — of  my  king,  who  wishes  nothing  more  ardently  than  the  re- 
newal of  the  bond  of  friendship  between  your  majesty  and  himself, 
and  the  assurarice  of  its  long  continuance  ;  who — " 

"  That  is  most  kind  of  his  majesty, "  said  Frederick,  interrupting 
him,  "and  I  certainly  share  the  friendly  wishes  of  my  exalted 
brother  of  France.  But  tell  me  now  something  of  your  learned 
men;  how  goes  it  with  the  Academy?  do  they  still  refuse  Voltaire 
a  seat,  w^hile  so  many  unknown  men  have  become  academicians?" 

"Yes,  sire  ;  these  academicians  are  obstinate  in  their  conclusions  ; 
and,  as  the  Academy  is  a  sort  of  republic,  the  king  has  no  power  to 
control  them.  If  that  were  not  so,  my  exalted  master.  King  Louis, 
in  order  to  be  agreeable  to  your  majesty,  would  exert  all  his  influ- 
ence, and — " 

"Ah,  sir,"  interrupted  the  king,  "it  is  just  and  beautiful  that  the 
Academy  is  a  free  republic,  which  will  not  yield  to  the  power  and 
influence  of  the  king.  Art  and  science  need  for  their  blossom  and 
growth  freedom  of  thought  and  speech.  Fate  ordained  that  I  should 
be  born  a  king  ;  but  when  alone  in  my  study,  alone  with  my  books, 
I  am  fully  content  to  be  republican  in  the  kingdom  of  letters.  I 
confess  the  truth  to  you  when,  as  a  wise  republican,  I  read  thought- 
fully in  the  pages  of  history,  I  sometimes  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  kings  and  princes  are  unnecessary  articles  of  luxury,  and  I 
shrug  my  shoulders  at  them  rather  contemptuously. " 

"  And  yet,  sire,  the  arts  need  the  protection  of  princes  ;  that  the 
republic  of  letters  blooms  and  flourishes  in  a  monarchy  is  shown  in 
Prussia,  where  a  royal  republican  and  a  republican  king  governs  his 
people,  and  *t  the  sfipie  tinie  giv^s  freedoni  of  thought  ?ind  speech 


124        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

to  science.  France  should  be  proud  and  happy  that  your  majesty 
has  adopted  so  many  of  her  sons  into  your  republic  of  letters ;  we 
dare,  therefore,  come  to  the  conclusion  that  your  majesty  will  not 
confine  your  interest  wholly  to  them,  but  that  this  alliance  between 
France  and  Pi'ussia,  which  my  king  so  earnestly  desires  and — " 

"  Unhappily, "  said  the  king,  interrupting  him  eagerly,  "  the  dis- 
tinguished Frenchmen  who  have  become  my  allies,  are  exactly  those 
whom  their  strong-minded,  fanatical  mother.  La  France,  has  cast 
out  from  her  bosom  as  dishonored  sons.  Voltaire  lives  in  Femey. 
Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  whom  I  admire  but  do  not  love,  lives  in 
Geneva,  where  he  has  b^n  obliged  to  take  refuge.  I  have  also  been 
told  that  the  pension  which,  in  a  favorable  moment,  was  granted  to 
D'Alembert,  has  been  withdrawn.  Have  I  been  falsely  informed  ? 
has  my  friend  D'Alembert  not  fallen  into  disgrace?  is  not  my  frieud 
the  encyclopaedian,  regarded  as  a  transgressor,  and  a  high  traitor 
because  he  uses  the  undoubted  right  of  free  thought,  does  not  blindly 
believe,  but  looks  abroad  with  open  eyes  and  a  clear  intellect?" 

The  duke  replied  by  a  few  confused  and  disconnected  words,  and 
a  shadow  fell  upon  his  clear  countenance  ;  three  times  had  Frederick 
interrupted  him  when  he  sought  to  speak  of  the  King  of  France  and 
his  friendship  for  his  brother  of  Prussia.  Tlie  duke  did  not  dare 
choose  this  theme  for  the  foui'th  time,  which  was  so  evidently  dis- 
tasteful to  the  king  ;  he  must,  therefore,  submit  and  follow  the  lead 
of  his  majesty,  and  in  lieu  of  alliances  and  state  questions  discuss 
philosophy  and  the  arts.  So  soon  as  the  duke  came  to  this  conclu- 
sion, he  smoothed  his  brow,  and,  with  all  his  amiability,  animation, 
and  intelligence,  he  replied  to  the  questions  of  the  king,  and  the 
conversation  was  carried  on  in  an  unbroken  stream  of  wit  and 
gayety. 

"At  the  next  audience  I  will  surely  find  an  opportunity  to  speak 
of  politics, "  said  the  duke  to  himself.  "  The  king  cannot  always  be 
so  immovable  as  to-day." 

But  the  second  and  the  third  audience  came,  and  the  king  was  as 
inexplicable  as  the  first  time ;  he  conversed  with  the  duke  kindly 
and  freely  showed  him  the  most  marked  attention  and  personal 
confidence  ;  but  so  often  as  the  duke  sought  to  introduce  the  subject 
of  politics  and  the  public  interests  which  had  brought  him  to  Berlin, 
the  king  interrupted  him  and  led  the  conversation  to  indifferent 
subjects.  This  lasted  two  weeks,  and  the  French  court  looked  with 
painful  anxiety  for  intelligence  from  the  Duke  de  Nivemois  that 
the  old  alliance  was  renewed  and  fully  ratified,  and  she  had,  there- 
fore, nothing  to  fear  from  Prussia.  This  uncertainty  was  no  longer 
to  be  borne,  and  the  duke  determined  to  end  it  by  a  coup  d'etat. 

He  wrote,  therefore,  to  the  king,  and  awked  for  a  private  audi 


THE  PRIVATE  AUDIENCE.  1S5 

ence.     To  his  great  joy  his  request  was  granted ;  the  king  invited 
him  to  come  the  next  day  to  Sans-Souci. 

•'At  last!  at  last!"  said  the  duke,  drawing  a  long  breath;  and 
with  proud,  French  assurance,  he  added,  "To-morrow,  then,  we 
will  renew  this  contract  which  binds  the  hands  of  Prussia,  and  gives 
France  liberty  of  action. " 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    PRIVATE  AUDIENCE. 

The  king  received  the  French  ambassador  without  ceremony. 
There  were  no  guards,  no  pages,  no  swarms  of  curious  listening 
courtiers,  only  a  few  of  his  trusty  friends-  who  welcomed  the  duke 
and  conversed  with  him,  while  Pollnitz  entered  the  adjoining  room 
and  informed  the  king  of  his  arrival. 

"  His  majesty  entreats  the  duke  to  enter, "  said  Pollnitz,  opening 
'^^he  door  of  the  librarj'.  The  king  advanced.  He  was  dressed  sim- 
ply ;  even  the  golden  star,  which  was  seldom  absent  from  his  coat, 
was  now  missing. 

"Come,  duke,  "said  the  king,  pleasantly,  "come  into  my  tttscu- 
lum."    He  then  entered  the  library,  quickly  followed  by  the  duke. 

"  Well,  sir, "  said  the  king,  "  we  are  now  in  that  room  in  which 
I  lately  told  you  I  was  but  a  republican.  You  have  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  republic  of  letters !" 

"But  I  see  a  king  before  me,"  said  the  duke,  bowing  reveren- 
tially ;  "  a  king  who  has  vanquished  his  republic,  and  sui"passed  all 
the  great  spirits  that  have  gone  before  him." 

The  king's  glance  rested  upon  the  shelves  filled  with  books,  on 
whose  back  glittered  in  golden  letters  the  most  distinguished  names 
of  all  ages. 

"Homer,  Tacitus,  Livy,  Petrarch  !— ye  great  spirits  of  my  repub- 
lic !  hear  how  this  traitor  slanders  you. " 

"  How  I  honor  you.  sire,  for  truly  it  is  a  great  honor  to  be  sub- 
dued and  vanquished  by  such  a  king  as  Frederick  the  Second. " 

Tlie  king  looked  at  him  fixedly.  "  You  wish  to  bewilder  me  with 
flatterj',  duke, "  said  he,  "  well  knowing  that  it  is  a  sweet  opiate, 
acceptable  to  princes,  generally  causing  their  ruin.  But  in  this 
chamber,  duke,  I  am  safe  from  this  danger,  and  here  in  my  republic 
we  will  both  enjoy  the  Spartan  soup  of  truth.  Believe  me,  sir,  it  is 
at  times  a  wholesome  dish,  though  to  the  pampered  stomach  it  is 
hitter  and  distasteful.  I  can  digest  it.  and  as  you  have  come  to 
visit  me,  you  will  have  to  partake  of  it." 


1^6       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"And  I  crave  it,  sire — crave  it  as  a  man  who  has  fasted  for  two 
weeks. " 

"For  two  weeks?"  said  the  king,  laughing.  "Ah,  it  is  true  you 
have  been  here  just  that  time. " 

"  For  two  long  weeks  has  your  majesty  kept  me  fasting  and  long- 
ing for  this  precious  soup, "  said  the  duke,  reproachfully. 

"  My  broth  was  not  ready, "  said  the  king,  gayly  ;  "  it  was  still 
bubbling  in  the  pot.  It  is  now  done,  and  we  will  consume  it  to- 
getlier.     Let  us  be  seated,  duke. " 

If  Frederick  had  turned  at  this  moment,  he  would  have  seen  the 
grand  chamberlain  Pollnitz  advancing  on  tiptoe  to  the  open  door,  in 
order  to  listen  to  the  conversation.  But  the  king  was  looking  ear- 
nestly at  the  ambassador.  After  a  few  moments  of  silence,  he  turned 
to  the  duke. 

"  Is  my  soup  still  too  hot  for  you?"  said  he,  laughingly. 

"No,  sire,"  said  the  duke,  bowing.  "But  I  waited  for  your 
majesty  to  take  the  first  spoonful.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  close 
that  door?" 

"  No, "  said  the  king,  hastily ;  "  I  left  it  open,  intentionally,  so 
that  your  eyes,  when  wearied  with  the  gloom  of  my  republic,  could 
refresh  themselves  on  the  glittering  costumes  of  my  courtiei*s. " 

"  He  left  it  open, "  thought  the  duke,  "  for  these  courtiers  to  hear 
all  that  is  said.  He  wishes  the  whole  world  to  know  how  he  rejected 
the  friendship  of  France. " 

"  Well, "  said  the  king,  "  I  will  take  my  spoonful.  We"will  com- 
mence without  further  delay.  Duke  de  Nivernois,  you  are  here  be- 
cause the  contract  made  between  France  and  Prussia  is  at  an  end,  and 
because  France  wishes  me  to  fancy  that  she  is  anxious  for  a  renewal 
of  this  treaty,  and  for  the  friendship  of  Prussia." 

"  France  wishes  to  convince  you  of  this,  sire, "  said  the  duke. 
,  "Convince  me?"  said  the  king,  ironically.     "And  how?" 

"King  Louis  of  France  not  only  proposes  to  renew  this  contract, 
sire,  but  he  wishes  to  draw  the  bonds  of  friendship  much  closer  be- 
tween France  and  Prussia. " 

"  And  to  what  end  ?"  said  the  king.  "  For  you  well  know,  duke, 
that  in  politics  personal  inclinations  must  not  be  considered.  Were 
it  not  so,  I  would,  without  further  delay,  grasp  the  friendly  hand 
that  my  brother  of  France  extends  toward  me,  for  the  whole  world 
knows  that  I  love  France,  and  am  proud  of  the  friendship  of  her 
great  spirits.  But  as,  imfortunately,  there  is  no  talk  here  of  per- 
sonal inclinations  but  of  politics,  I  repeat  my  question.  To  what 
end  does  France  desire  the  friendship  of  Prussia?  What  am  I  to  pay 
for  it?  You  see,  duke.  I  am  a  bad  diplomatist — I  make  no  digre& 
sion,  but  go  to  the  point  at  once. " 


THE  PRIVATE  AUDIENCE.  127 

"And  that,  perhaps,  is  the  nicest  diplomacy,"  said  the  duke, 
sighing. 

"  But,  duke,  do  tell  me,  why  is  France  so  anxious  for  the  friend- 
ship of  Prussia?" 

"  To  have  an  ally  in  you  and  be  your  ally.  By  the  first,  France 
will  have  a  trusty  and  powerful  friend  in  Germany  when  her  lands 
are  attacked  by  the  King  of  England  ;  by  the  last,  your  majesty  will 
have  a,  trusty  and  powerful  friend  when  Prussia  is  attacked  by 
Russia  or  Austria. " 

"We  will  now  speak  of  the  first,"  said  the  king,  quietly. 
"France,  then,  thinkstotransplantthis  war  with  England  to  German 
ground?" 

"Everywhere,  sire,  that  the  English  colors  predominate.  Eng- 
land alone  will  be  accountable  for  this  war. " 

"  It  is  true  England  has  been  hard  upon  you,  but  still  it  seems  to 
me  you  have  revenged  yourselves  sufficiently.  When  England  made 
herself  supreme  ruler  of  the  Ohio,  France,  by  the  conquest  of  the 
Isle  of  Minorca,  obtained  dominion  over  the  Mediterranean  Sea, 
thereby  wounding  England  so  deeply,  that  in  her  despair  she  turned 
her  weapons  against  herself.  Admiral  Byng,  having  been  overcome 
by  your  admiral  Marquis  do  la  Gallissionaire,  paid  for  it  with  his 
life.     I  think  France  should  be  satisfied  with  this  expiation. " 

"  France  will  wash  off  her  insults  in  English  blood,  and  Minorca 
is  no  compensation  for  Canada  and  Ohio.  England  owes  us  satis- 
faction, and  we  will  obtain  it  in  Hanover. " 

"In  Hanover?"  repeated  the  king,  angrily. 

"  Hanover  will  be  ours,  sire,  though  we  had  no  such  ally  as  Ger- 
many ;  but  it  will  be  ours  the  sooner  if  we  have  that  help  which  you 
can  give  us.  Standing  between  two  fires,  England  will  have  to 
succumb,  there  will  be  no  escape  for  her.  Tliat  is  another  advan- 
tage, sire,  that  France  expects  from  the  treaty  with  Prussia.  But 
I  will  now  speak  of  the  advantages  which  your  majesty  may  expect 
from  this  alliance.  You  are  aware  that  Prussia  is  surrounded  by 
threatening  enemies  ;  that  Austria  and  Russia  are  approaching  her 
borders  with  evil  intentions,  and  that  a  day  may  soon  come  when 
Maria  Theresa  may  wish  to  reconquer  this  Silesia  which,  in  her 
heart,  she  still  calls  her  own.  When  this  time  comes,  your  majesty 
will  not  be  alone  ;  your  alh',  France,  will  be  at  your  side  ;  she  will 
repay  with  faithful,  active  assistance  the  services  which  your 
majesty  rendered  her  in  Hanover.  She  will  not  only  render  her  all 
the  assistance  in  her  power,  but  she  will  also  allow  her  to  partake  of 
the  advantages  of  this  victory.  Hanover  is  a  rich  land,  not  rich 
only  in  products,  but  in  many  other  treasm'es.  Tlie  Electors  of 
QaQQv^r  Ij^v?  in  their  yesi^eRces  pot  only  their  pbepts"  Slk4  with 


128        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

gold  and  precious  jewels,  but  also  the  most  magnificent  paintings. 
It  is  but  natural  that  we  should  pay  ourselves  in  Hanover  for  the 
expenses  of  this  war  of  which  England  is  the  cause.  You,  then, 
will  share  with  us  these  treasures.  And  still  this  is  not  all.  France 
is  grateful ;  she  offers  you,  therefore,  one  of  her  colonies,  the  Isle 
of  Tobago,  as  a  pledge  of  friendship  and  love." 

"Where  is  this  isle?"  said  the  king,  quietly. 

"In  the  West  Indies,  sire. " 

"And  where  is  Hanover?" 

The  duke  looked  at  the  king  in  amazement,  and  remained  silent. 

The  king  repeated  his  question. 

"Well,"  said  the  duke,  hesitatingly,  "Hanover  is  in  Germany." 

"And  for  this  German  land  which,  with  my  aid,  France  is  to 
conquer,  I  am  to  receive  as  a  reward  the  little  Isle  of  Tobago  in  the 
West  Indies  !  Have  you  finished,  duke,  or  have  you  other  proposi- 
tions to  make  ?" 

"  Sire,  I  have  finished,  and  await  your  answer. " 

"And  this  answer,  duke,  shall  be  cleai*er  and  franker  than  j'our 
questions.  I  will  begin  by  answering  the  latter  i)art  of  your  speech. 
Small  and  insignificant  as  the  King  of  Prussia  may  appear  in  your 
eyes,  I  would  have  you  know  he  is  no  robber,  no  highwayman  ;  he 
leaves  these  brilliant  amusements  without  envy  to  France.  And 
now,  my  dear  duke,  I  must  inform  j'ou,  that  since  this  morning  it 
has  been  placed  out  of  my  power  to  accept  this  alliance ;  for  this 
morning  a  treaty  was  signed,  by  which  I  became  the  ally  of  Eng- 
land !" 

"It  is  impossible,  sire, "  cried  the  duke  ;  "  this  cannot  be !" 

" Not  possible,  sir'!"  said  the  king,  "and  still  it  is  true.  I  have 
formed  a  treaty  with  England — this  matter  is  settled  !  I  have  been 
an  ally  of  Louis  XV,  ;  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  in  him.  I 
love  him  ;  well,  am  I  now  his  enemy?  I  hope  that  there  may  be  a 
time  when  I  may  again  approach  the  King  of  France.  Pi-ay  tell 
him  how  anxiously  I  look  forward  to  this  time.  Tell  him  I  am 
much  attached  to  him. " 

"Ah,  sire,"  said  the  duke,  sighing,  "it  is  a  great  misfortune.  I 
dare  not  go  to  my  monarch  with  this  sad,  unexpected  news ;  my 
iiionarch  who  loves  you  so  tenderly,  whose  most  earnest  wish  it  is 
for  France  to  be  allied  to  Prussia. " 

"Ah,  duke,"  said  Frederick,  laughing,  "France  wishes  for  ships 
as  allies.  I  have  none  to  offer — England  has.  With  her  help  I  shall 
keep  the  Russians  from  Prussia,  and  with  my  aid  she  will  keep  the 
French  from  Hanover. " 

"We  axe  to  be  enemies,  then?"  said  the  duke,  sadly. 

"  It  is  ^  p^c^esary  ^vil,  fqv  which  there  is  no  rerpedy.    But  Lovtif 


THE  TRAITOR.  129 

XV.  can  form  other  alliances,"  said  Frederick,  ironically.  "It  may 
be  for  his  interest  to  unite  with  the  house  of  Austria  1" 

The  duke  was  much  embarrassed. 

"  Your  majesty  is  not  in  earnest, "  said  he,  anxiously. 

"Why  not,  duke?"  said  Frederick  ;  "an  alliance  between  France 
and  Austria — it  sounds  very  natural.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I 
would  propose  this  to  my  court. " 

He  now  rose,  which  was  a  sign  to  the  duke  that  the  audience  was 
at  an  end. 

"  I  must  now  send  a  courier  at  once  to  my  court, "  said  the  duke, 
"  and  I  will  not  fail  to  state  that  your  majesty  advises  us  to  unite 
with  Austria." 

"  You  will  do  well ;  that  is, "  said  the  king,  with  a  meaning 
smile — "that  is,  if  you  think  your  court  is  in  need  of  such  advice, 
and  has  not  already  acted  without  it.     When  do  you  leave,  duke?" 

"  To-morrow  morning,  sire. " 

"  Farewell,  duke,  and  do  not  forget  that  in  my  heart  I  am  the 
friend  of  France,  though  we  meet  as  enemies  on  the  battle-field. " 

The  dvike  bowed  reverentially,  and,  sighing  deeply,  left  the  royal 
library,  "the  republic  of  letters,"  to  hasten  to  Berlin. 

The  king  looked  after  him  thoughtfully. 

"  The  die  is  ca  t, "  said  he,  softly.  "  There  will  be  war  !  Our  days 
of  peace  and  quietude  are  over,  and  the  days  of  danger  are  ap- 
proaching 1" 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  TRAITOR. 

The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  was  shedding  its  golden  rays  over 
the  garden  of  Sans-Souci,  decking  the  awaking  flowers  with  glitter- 
ing dew-drops.  All  was  quiet — Nature  alone  was  up  and  doing ;  no 
one  was  to  be  seen,  no  sound  was  to  be  heard,  but  the  rustling  of 
trees  and  the  chirping  of  birds.  All  was  still  and  peaceful ;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  soimd  of  human  misery  and  passion  could  not  reach 
this  spot.  There  was  something  so  holy  in  this  garden,  that  you 
could  but  believe  it  to  be  a  part  of  paradise  in  which  the  serpent  had 
not  yet  exercised  his  arts  of  seduction.  But  no,  this  is  but  a  beauti- 
ful dream.  Man  is  here,  but  he  is  sleeping ;  he  is  still  resting  from 
the  toils  and  sorrows  of  the  past  day.  Man  is  here ! — he  is  coming 
to  desti'oy  the  peacefulness  of  Nature  with  his  sorrows  and  com. 
plaints. 

The  little  gate  at  the  farthest  end  p^  th^t  shady^  walk  19  opened, 


130        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

and  a  man  enters.  The  dream  is  at  an  end,  and  Sans-Souci  is  now 
but  a  beautiful  garden,  not  a  paradise,  for  it  has  been  desecrated  by 
the  foot  of  man.  He  hastens  up  the  path  leading  to  the  palace  ;  he 
hurries  forward,  panting  and  gasping.  His  face  is  colorless,  his 
long  hair  is  fluttering  in  the  morning  wind,  his  eyes  are  fixed  and 
glaring ;  his  clothes  are  covered  with  dust,  and  his  head  is  bare. 

There  is  something  terrifying  in  the  sudden  appearance  of  this 
man.  Nature  seems  to  smile  no  more  since  he  came  ;  the  trees  liave 
stopped  their  whispering,  the  birds  cannot  continue  their  melodious 
songs  since  they  have  seen  his  wild,  anxious  look.  The  peaceful- 
ness  of  Nature  is  broken.  For  man — that  is  to  say,  misery,  mis- 
fortime  ;  for  man — that  is  to  say,  sin,  guilt,  and  meanness — is  there, 
pouring  destroying  drops  of  poison  in  the  golden  chalice  of  creation. 

Breathlessly  he  hun-ies  on,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left.  He 
has  now  reached  the  terrace,  and  now  he  stops  for  a  moment  to 
recover  breath.  He  sees  not  the  glorious  panorama  lying  at  his 
feet ;  he  is  blind  to  all  but  himself.  He  is  alone  in  the  world — 
alone  with  his  misery,  his  pain.  Now  he  hastens  on  to  the  back  of 
the  palace.  Tlie  sentinels  walking  before  the  back  and  the  front  of 
the  castle  know  him,  know  where  he  is  going,  and  they  barely 
glance  at  him  as  he  knocks  long  and  loudly  at  that  little  side  window. 

It  is  opened,  and  a  young  girl  appears,  who,  when  perceiving 
this  pale,  anxious  countenance,  which  is  striving  in  vain  to  smile 
at  her,  cries  out  loudly,  and  folds  her  hands  as  if  in  prayer. 

"  Hush  !"  said  he,  roughly  ;  "  hush  !  let  me  in. " 

"Some  misfortune  has  happened  !"  said  she,  terrified. 

"Yes,  Rosa,  a  great  misfortime ;  but  let  me  in,  if  you  do  not 
wish  to  ruin  me. " 

The  young  girl  disappears,  and  the  man  hastens  to  the  side  door 
of  the  castle.     It  is  opened,  and  he  slips  in. 

Perfect  peace  reigns  once  more  in  the  garden  of  Sans-Souci. 
Nature  is  now  smiling,  for  she  is  alone  with  her  innocence.  Man 
is  not  there !  But  now,  in  the  castle,  in  the  dwelling  of  the  castle 
warder,  and  in  the  room  of  his  lovely  daughter  Rosa,  all  is  alive. 
There  is  whispering,  and  weeping,  and  sighing,  and  praying  ;  there 
is  Rosa,  fearful  and  trembling,  her  face  covered  with  tears,  and  op- 
posite her,  her  pale,  woe-begone  lover. 

"I  have  been  walking  all  night, "  said  he,  with  a  faint  and  hollow 
voice.  "I  did  not  know  that  Berlin  was  so  far  from  Potsdam,  and 
had  I  known  it,  I  would  not  have  dared  to  take  a  wagon  or  a  horse ; 
I  had  to  slip  away  very  quietly.  While  by  Count  Puebla's  order 
my  room  was  guarded,  and  I  thought  to  be  in  it,  I  descended  into 
the  garden  by  the  grape-vine,  which  reached  up  to  my  window. 
Tbe  garderjer  had  no  suspicions  of  how  I  came  there,  when  I  required 


THE  TRAITOR.  131 

him  to  unlock  the  door,  but  laughed  cunningly,  thinking  I  was 
bound  to  some  rendezvous.  And  so  I  wandered  on  in  fear  and  pain, 
in  despair  and  anger,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  road  would  never 
come  to  an  end.  At  times  I  stopped,  thinking  I  heard  behind  me 
wild  cries  and  curses,  the  stamping  of  horses,  and  the  rolling  of 
wheels  ;  but  it  was  imagination.  Ah  !  it  was  a  frightful  road  ;  but 
it  is  past.  But  now  I  will  be  strong,  for  this  concerns  my  name, 
my  life,  my  honor.  Why  do  you  laugh,  Rosa?"  said  he,  angrily; 
"do  you  dare  to  laugh,  because  I  speak  of  my  name — my  honor?" 

"  I  did  not  laugh, "  said  Rosa,  looking  with  terror  at  the  disturbed 
countenance  of  her  lover. 

"  Yes,  you  laughed,  and  you  were  right  to  laugh,  when  I  spoke 
of  my  honor  ;  I  who  have  no  honor  ;  I  who  have  shamed  my  name  ; 
I  upon  whose  brow  is  the  sign  of  murder  :  for  I  am  guilty  of  the 
ruin  of  a  man,  and  the  chains  on  his  hands  are  cursing  my  name. " 

"  My  God  !  he  is  mad, "  murmured  Rosa. 

"No,  I  am  not  mad,"  said  he,  with  a  heart-breaking  smile.  "I 
know  all,  all !  Were  I  mad,  I  would  not  be  so  unhappy.  Were  I 
unconscious,  I  would  suffer  less.  But,  no,  I  remember  all.  I  know 
how  this  evil  commenced,  how  it  grew  and  poisoned  my  heart. 
The  evil  was  my  poverty,  my  covetousness,  and  perhaps  also  my 
ambition.  I  was  not  content  to  bear  forever  the  chains  of  bondage  ; 
I  wished  to  be  free  from  want.  I  determined  it  should  no  more  be 
said  that  the  sisters  of  Count  Weingarten  had  to  earn  their  bread  by 
their  needlework,  while  he  feasted  sumptuously  at  the  royal  table. 
This  it  was  that  caused  my  ruin.  These  frightful  words  buzzed  in 
my  ears  so  long,  that  in  my  despair  I  determined  to  stop  them  at 
any  price  ;  and  so  I  committed  my  first  crime,  and  received  a  golden 
reward  for  my  treason.  My  sisters  did  not  work  now  ;  I  bought  a 
small  house  for  them,  and  gave  them  all  that  I  received.  I  shud- 
dered at  the  sight  of  this  money  ;  I  would  keep  none  of  it.  I  was 
again  the  poor  secretary  Weingarten,  but  my  family  was  not  help- 
less ;  they  had  nothing  to  fear. " 

To  whom  was  he  telling  all  this?  Certainly  not  to  that  young 
girl  standing  before  him,  pale  and  trembling.  He  had  forgotten 
himself ;  he  had  forgotten  her  whom  in  other  days  he  had  called  his 
heart's  darling. 

As  she  sank  at  his  feet  and  covered  his  hands  with  her  tears,  he 
rose  hastily  from  his  seat ;  he  now  remembered  that  he  was  not 
alone. 

"What  have  I  said?"  cried  he,  wildly.     "Why  do  you  weep?" 

"  I  weep  because  you  have  forgotten  me, "  said  she,  softly  ;  "  I 
weep  because,  in  accusing  yourself,  you  make  no  excuse  for  your 
crime  ;  not  even  your  love  for  your  poor  Rosa. " 


132       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  PAMILV. 

"It  is  true,"  said  he,  sadly,  "I  had  forgotten  our  love.  And 
still  it  is  the  only  excuse  that  I  have  for  my  second  crime.  I  had 
determined  to  be  a  good  man,  and  to  expiate  my  one  crime  through- 
out my  whole  life.  But  when  I  saw  you,  your  beauty  fascinated 
me,  and  you  drew  me  on.  I  went  with  open  eyes  into  the  net  which 
you  prepared  for  me,  Rosa.  I  allowed  myself  to  be  allured  by  your 
beauty,  knowing  well  that  it  would  draw  me  into  a  frightful 
abyss. " 

"Ah, "  said  Rosa,  groaning,  " how  cruelly  you  speak  of  our  love !" 

"  Of  our  love  !"  repeated  he,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  Child, 
in  this  hour  we  will  be  true  to  each  other.  Ours  was  no  true  love. 
You  were  in  love  with  my  noble  name  and  position — I  with  your 
youth,  your  beauty,  your  coquettish  ways.  Our  souls  were  not  in 
unison.  You  gave  yourself  to  me,  not  because  you  loved  me,  but 
because  you  wished  to  deceive  me.  I  allowed  myself  to  be  deceived 
because  of  your  loveliness  and  because  I  saw  the  golden  reward 
which  your  deceitful  love  would  bring  me. " 

"  You  are  cruel  and  unjust, "  said  Rosa,  sadly.  "  It  may  be  true 
that  you  never  loved  me,  but  I  loved  you  truly.  I  gave  you  my 
whole  heart. " 

"Yes,  and  in  giving  it,"  said  he,  harshly — "  in  giving  it  you  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  keep  the  aim  of  your  tenderness  always  in 
view.  While  your  arms  were  around  me,  your  little  hand  which 
seemed  to  rest  upon  my  heart,  sought  for  the  key  which  I  always 
kept  in  my  vest-pocket,  and  which  I  had  lately  told  you  belonged 
to  the  desk  in  which  the  important  papers  of  the  embassy  were 
placed.  You  found  this  key,  Rosa,  and  I  knew  it,  but  I  only 
laughed,  and  pressed  you  closer  to  my  heart. " 

"Terrible!  terrible!"  said  Rosa,  trembling.  "He  knew  all,  and 
still  he  let  me  do  it !" 

"  Yes  I  allowed  you  to  do  it — I  did  not  wish  to  be  better  than  the 
girl  I  loved ;  and,  as  she  desired  to  deceive  me,  I  let  myself  be  de- 
ceived. I  allowed  it,  because  the  demon  of  gold  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  me.  I  took  the  important  papers  out  of  my  desk,  to  which 
you  had  stolen  the  key,  and  hid  them.  Then  the  tempters  came  and 
wliispered  of  golden  rewards,  of  eternal  gratitude,  of  fortune, 
honor ;  and  these  fiendish  whispers  misled  my  soul.  I  sold  my 
honor  and  became  a  traitor,  and  all  this  for  the  sake  of  gold !  So  I 
became  what  I  now  am.  I  do  not  reproach  you,  Rosa,  for  most 
likely  it  would  have  happ)ened  without  you. " 

"But  what  danger  threatens  you  now?"  asked  Rosa. 

"The  just  punishment  for  a  traitor,"  said  he,  hoarsely.  "Give 
me  some  wine.  Rosa,  so  that  I  can  gain  strength  to  go  to  th«  king 
At  once. " 


THE  TRAITOR  133 

"To  the  king  at  this  early  hour?" 

"And  why  not?  Have  I  not  been  with  him  often  at  this  hour, 
when  I  had  important  news  or  dispatches  to  give  him?  So  give  me 
the  wine,  Rosa. " 

Rosa  left  the  room,  but  returned  almost  instantly.  He  took  the 
bottle  from  her  and  filled  a  glass  hastily. 

"  Now, "  said  he,  breathing  deeply,  "  I  feel  that  I  live  again.  My 
blood  flows  freely  through  my  veins,  and  my  heart  is  beating  loudly. 
Now  to  the  king  !" 

He  stood  before  a  glass  for  a  moment  to  arrange  his  hair ;  then 
pressed  a  cold  kiss  upon  Rosa's  pale,  trembling  lips,  and  left  the 
room.  "With  a  firm,  sure  tread,  he  hurried  through  the  halls  and 
chambers.  No  one  stopped  him,  for  no  one  was  there  .to  see  him. 
In  the  king's  antechamber  sat  Deesen  taking  his  breakfast. 

"Is  the  king  up?"  asked  Weingarten. 

"  The  sun  has  been  up  for  hours,  and  so  of  course  the  king  is  up, " 
said  Deesen,  proudly. 

"  Annoimce  me  to  his  majesty  ;  I  have  some  important  news  for 
him." 

He  entered  the  king's  chamber,  and  returned  in  a  few  moments 
for  Weingarten. 

The  king  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair  by  a  window,  which  he 
had  opened  to  breathe  the  fresh  summer  air.  His  white  greyhound, 
Amalthea,  lay  at  his  feet,  looking  up  at  him  with  his  soft  black 
eyes.     In  his  right  hand  the  king  held  his  flute. 

"You  are  early,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  to  Weingarten.  "You 
must  have  very  important  news. " 

"Yes,  sire,  very  important,"  said  Weingarten,  approaching 
nearer. 

The  king  reached  out  his  hand.     "  Give  them  to  me, "  said  he. 

"  Sire,  I  have  no  dispatches. " 

"  A  verbal  message,  then.     Speak. " 

"  Sire,  all  is  lost ;  Count  Puebla  suspects  me. " 

The  king  was  startled  for  a  moment,  but  collected  himself  imme- 
diately.    "He  suspects,  but  he  is  certain  of  nothing?" 

"  No,  sire  ;  but  his  suspicion  amounts  almost  to  certainty.  Yes- 
terday I  was  copying  a  dispatch  which  was  to  go  that  evening,  and 
which  was  of  the  highest  importance  to  your  majesty,  when  I  sud- 
denly perceived  Count  Puebla  standing  beside  me  at  my  desk.  He 
had  entered  my  room  very  quietly,  which  showed  that  he  had  his 
suspicions,  and  was  watching  me.  He  snatched  my  copy  from  the 
desk  and  read  it.  'For  whom  is  this?'  said  he,  in  a  threatening 
tone.  I  stammered  forth  some  excuses  ;  said  that  I  intended  writing 
a  history,  and  that  I  took  a  copy  of  all  dispatches  for  my  work.    He 


134        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

would  not  listen  to  me.  'You  are  a  traitor !'  said  he,  in  a  thunder- 
ing voice.  '  I  have  suspected  you  for  some  time ;  I  am  now  con- 
vinced of  your  treacheiy.  You  shall  have  an  examination  to- 
morrow ;  for  to-night  you  will  remain  a  prisoner  in  your  room. ' 
He  then  locked  my  desk,  put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and,  taking  with 
him  the  dispatch  and  my  copy,  left  the  room.  I  heard  him  lock  it 
and  bolt  my  door.     I  was  a  prisoner. " 

"  How  did  you  get  out?"  said  the  king. 

"  By  the  window,  sire.  And  I  flew  here  to  throw  myself  at  your 
majesty's  feet,  and  to  beg  for  mercy  and  protection." 

"I  promised  you  protection  and  help  in  case  of  your  detection — I 
will  fulfil  my  promise.  What  are  your  wishes.  Let  us  see  if  they 
can  be  realized." 

"  Will  your  majesty  give  me  some  sure  place  of  refuge  where 
Count  Puebla's  threats  cannot  harm  me?" 

"  You  will  remain  here  in  the  dwelling  of  the  castle-warder  imtil 
a  suitable  residence  can  be  found  for  you.  What  next?  What 
plana  have  you  made  for  the  future  ?" 

"  I  would  humbly  beseech  your  majesty  to  give  nie  some  position  in 
your  land  worthy  of  my  station,  such  as  your  highness  promised  me. " 

"  You  remember  too  many  of  my  promises, "  said  the  king,  ahrug- 
ging  his  shoulders. 

"Your  majesty  will  not  grant  me  the  promised  position  t'  said 
Coimt  Weingarten,  tremblingly. 

"  I  r'^member  no  such  promise, "  said  Frederick.  "  Men  of  your 
stamp  are  paid,  but  not  rewarded.  I  have  made  use  of  your  treach- 
ery ;  but  you  are,  nevertheless,  in  my  eyes  a  traitor,  and  I  will  have 
none  such  in  my  service. " 

"Then  I  am  lost !"  said  Weingarten.  "  My  honor,  my  good  name, 
my  future  are  annihilated." 

"  Your  honor  has  been  weighed  with  gold, "  said  the  king,  sternly, 
"and  I  think  I  have  already  paid  more  for  it  than  it  was  worth. 
Your  good  name,  it  is  true,  will  be  from  now  changed  into  a  bad 
one  ;  and  your  mother  will  have  to  blush  when  she  uses  it.  There- 
fore I  advise  you  to  let  it  go ;  to  take  another  name  ;  to  begin  a  new 
existence,  and  to  found  a  new  future. " 

"  A  future  without  honor,  without  name,  without  position  I" 
sighed  Weingarten,  despairingly. 

"  So  are  men !"  said  the  king,  softly ;  "  insolent  and  stubborn 
when  they  think  themselves  secure  ;  cowardly  and  uncertain  when 
they  are  in  danger.  So  you  were  rash  enough  to  think  that  your 
treacherous  deeds  would  always  remain  a  secret?  You  did  not  think 
of  a  possible  detection,  or  prepare  yourself  for  it.  In  treading  the 
Fpc>4  wbJQli  you  bave  (;roddeu,  evei^  step  s^ouH  be  cQpsjd^red 


THE  TRAITOR.  135 

This,  it  seems  to  me,  you  have  not  done.  You  wish  to  enjoy  the 
fruits  of  your  treachery  in  perfect  security ;  but  you  have  not  the 
courage  to  stand  before  the  world  as  a  traitor.  Do  away  with  this 
name,  which  will  cause  you  many  dangers  and  insults.  Fly  from 
this  place,  where  you  and  your  deeds  are  known.  Under  a  different 
name  look  for  an  asylum  in  another  part  of  my  land.  Money  shall 
not  fail  you  ;  and  if  what  you  have  earned  from  me  is  not  sufficient, 
turn  to  me,  and  I  will  lend  you  still  more.  I  will  not  forget  that  to 
me  your  treachery  has  been  of  great  use,  and  therefore  I  will  not 
desert  you,  though  I  shall  despise  the  ti-aitor.  And  now,  farewell  1 
This  is  our  last  meeting.  Call  this  afteraoon  upon  my  treasurer ; 
he  will  pay  you  two  hundred  louis  d'or.  And  now  go. "  And  with 
a  scornful  look  at  Weingarten's  pale  countenance,  he  turned  to  the 
window. 

Weingarten  hurried  past  the  halls  and  chambers,  and  entered 
Rosa's  room.  She  read  in  his  pale,  sad  face  that  he  had  no  good 
news  to  tell  her. 

"  Has  it  all  been  in  vain  ?"  said  she,  breathlessly. 

"In  vain?"  cried  he,  with  a  scornful  smile.  "No,  not  in  vaiu. 
The  king  rewarded  me  well ;  much  better  than  Judas  Iscariot  was 
rewarded.  I  have  earned  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  am  still  to 
receive  a  thousand  crowns.  Quiet  yourself,  Rosa  ;  we  will  be  very 
happy,  for  we  will  have  monej'.  Only  I  must  ask  if  the  proud 
daughter  of  the  royal  castle- warder  will  give  her  hand  to  a  man  who 
can  offer  her  no  name,  no  position.  Rosa,  I  warn  you,  think  well 
of  what  you  do.  You  loved  me  because  I  was  a  count,  and  had  po- 
sition to  offer  you.  Fi-om  to-day,  I  have  no  position,  no  name,  no 
honor,  no  family.  Like  Ahasuerus,  I  will  wander  wearily  through 
the  world,  happy  and  thanking  God  if  I  can  find  a  quiet  spot  where 
I  am  not  known,  and  my  name  was  never  heard.  There  I  will  rest, 
and  trust  to  chance  for  a  name.  Rosa,  will  you  share  with  me  this 
existence,  without  sunshine,  without  honor,  without  a  name?" 

She  was  trembling  so,  that  she  could  barely  speak. 

"  I  have  no  choice, "  stammered  she,  at  last ;  "  I  must  follow  you, 
for  my  honor  demands  that  I  should  be  your  wife.  1  must  go  with 
you  ;  fate  wills  it." 

With  a  loud  shriek  she  fainted  by  his  side.  Weingarten  did  not 
raise  her  ;  he  glanced  wildly  at  the  pale,  lifeless  woman  at  his  feet. 

"  We  are  both  condemned, "  murmured  he,  "  we  have  both  lost 
our  honor.  And  with  this  Cain's  mark  upon  our  foreheads  we  will 
wander  wearily  through  the  world. "  * 

*  Count  Weingarten  escaped  from  all  his  troubles  happily.  He  married  his  sweet- 
heart, the  daughter  of  the  castle-warder,  and  went  to  Altmark,  where,  under  the 
juune  of  Veis,  h«  lived  happily  for  many  years. 


136       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Tlie  king,  in  the  mean  while,  after  Weingarten  had  left  him, 
walked  thoughtfully  up  and  down  his  room.  At  times  he  raised 
his  head  and  gazed  with  a  proud,  questioning  glance  at  the  sky. 
Great  thoughts  were  at  work  within  him.  Now  Frederick  throws 
back  his  head  proudly,  and  his  eyes  sparkle. 

"  The  time  has  come, "  said  he,  in  a  loud,  full  voice.  "  The  hour 
for  delay  is  past ;  now  the  sword  must  decide  between  me  and  my 
enemies."  He  rang  a  bell  hastily,  and  ordered  a  valet  to  send  a 
courier  at  once  to  Berlin,  to  call  General  Winterfeldt,  General 
Betzow,  and  also  Marshal  Schwerin,  to  Sans-Souci. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

DECLARATION    OF    WAR. 

A  PEW  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  courier,  the  heavy  move- 
ment of  wheels  in  the  court  below  announced  to  the  king,  who  was 
standing  impatiently  at  his  window,  the  arrival  of  the  exj)ected 
generals.  In  the  same  moment,  his  chamberlain,  opening  wide  the 
librarj'  door,  ushered  them  into  his  presence. 

"Ah!"  said  the  king,  welcoming  them  pleasantly,  "I  see  I  am 
not  so  entirely  without  friends  as  my  enemies  think.  I  have  but  to 
call,  and  Marehal  Schwerin,  that  is,  wisdom  and  victory,  is  at  my 
side ;  and  Generals  Winterfeldt  and  Retzow,  that  is,  youth  and 
courage,  boldness  and  bravery,  are  ready  to  give  me  all  the  assist- 
ance in  their  power.  Sira,  I  thank  you  for  coming  to  me  at  once. 
Let  us  be  seated  ;  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,  and  upon  what  earnest 
important  subjects  I  wish  your  advice. " 

And  in  a  few  words  the  king  first  showed  them  the  situation  of 
Europe  and  of  his  own  states,  so  as  to  prepare  them  for  the  more 
important  subjects  he  had  to  introduce  before  them. 

"You  will  now  understand,"  said  he,  "why  I  was  so  willing  to 
make  this  contract  with  England.  I  hoped  thereby  to  gain  Russia, 
who  is  allied  to  England,  to  my  side.  But  these  hopes  have  bcMi 
destroyed.  Russia,  angi-y  with  Britain  for  having  allied  herself  ta 
Prussia,  has  broken  her  contract.  Bestuchef ,  it  is  true,  wavered  for 
a  moment  between  his  love  of  English  guineas  and  his  hatred  of 
me,  but  hate  carried  the  day. " 

"But,  sire,"  said  Retzow,  hastily,  "if  your  majesty  can  succeed 
in  making  a  reconciliation  between  France  and  England,  you  may 
become  the  ally  of  these  two  powerful  nations.  Tlien  let  Austria, 
Russia,  and  Saxony  come  upon  us  all  at  once,  we  can  confront  them. " 

"  We  can  do  that,  I  hope,  even  without  the  assistance  of  France," 


DECLARATION  OF  WAR.  13? 

said  the  king,  impetuously.  "We  must  renounce  all  idea  of  help 
from  France  ;  she  is  allied  to  Austria.  What  Kaunitz  commenced 
with  his  wisdom,  Maria  Theresa  carried  out  with  her  flattery.  All 
my  enemies  have  determined  to  attack  me  at  once.  But  I  am  ready 
for  them,  weapons  in  hand.  I  have  been  hard  at  work ;  all  is 
aiTanged,  every  preparation  for  the  march  of  our  army  is  finished. 
And  now  I  have  called  you  together  to  counsel  me  as  to  where  we 
can  commence  our  attack  advantageously. " 

Frederick  stopped  speaking,  and  gazed  earnestly  at  his  generals, 
endeavoring  to  divine  their  thoughts.  Marshal  Schwerin  was  look- 
ing silently  before  him  ;  a  dark  cloud  rested  upon  General  Retzow's 
brow  ;  but  the  young,  handsome  face  of  Winterfeldt  was  sparkling 
with  delight  at  the  thought  of  war. 

"Well,  marshal."  said  the  king,  impatiently,  "what  is  your 
advice?" 

"  My  advice,  sire, "  said  the  old  marshal,  sighing ;  "  I  see  my 
king  surrounded  by  threatening  and  powerful  foes ;  I  see  him  alone 
in  the  midst  of  all  these  allied  enemies.  For  Ehigland  may,  per- 
chance, send  us  money,  but  she  has  no  soldiers  for  us,  and  more- 
over, we  must  assist  her  to  defend  Hanover.  I  cannot  counsel  this 
war,  for  mighty  enemies  are  around  us,  and  Prussia  stands  alone." 

"  No, "  said  Frederick,  solemnly,  "  Prussia  stands  not  alone ! — a 
good  cause  and  a  good  swoi'd  are  her  allies,  and  with  them  she  will 
conquer.     And  now.  General  Retzow,  let  us  have  your  opinion. " 

"  I  agree  entirely  with  Marshal  Schwerin, "  said  Retzow.  "  Like 
him,  I  think  Prussia  should  not  venture  into  this  strife,  because  she 
is  too  weak  to  withstand  such  powerful  adversaries. " 

"  You  speak  prudently, "  said  Frederick,  scornfully.  "  And  now, 
Winterfeldt,  are  you  also  against  this  war?" 

"  No,  sire, "  cried  Winterfeldt,  "  I  am  for  the  attack,  and  never 
were  circumstances  more  favorable  than  at  present.  Austria  has  as 
yet  made  no  preparations  for  war ;  her  armies  are  scattered,  and  her 
finances  are  in  disorder ;  and  now  it  will  be  an  easy  task  to  attack 
her  and  subdue  her  surprised  army." 

The  king  looked  at  him  pleasantly,  and  turning  to  the  other 
generals,  said  quietly : 

"  We  must  not  be  carried  away  by  the  brave  daring  of  this  youth  ; 
he  is  the  yoimgest  among  us,  and  is,  perhaps,  misled  by  enthusiasm. 
But  we  old  ones  must  reflect ;  and  I  wished  to  convince  you  that  I 
had  not  failed  to  do  this.     But  all  has  been  in  vain. " 

"Now  is  the  time,"  said  Winterfeldt,  with  sparkling  eyes,  "to 
convince  the  crippled,  unwieldy  Austrian  eagle  that  the  young 
eagle  of  Prussia  has  spread  her  wings,  and  that  her  claws  are  strong 
eiiough  to  grasp  all  her  enemies  and  hurl  them  into  an  abyss. " 
10 


138       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  And  if  the  young  eagle,  in  spite  of  his  daring,  should  have  to 
succumb  to  the  superiority  of  numbers,"  said  Marshal  Schwerin, 
sadly.  "  If  the  balls  of  his  enemies  should  break  his  wings,  tliereby 
•preventing  his  flight  for  the  future?  Were  it  not  better  to  avoid 
this  possibility,  and  not  to  allow  the  whole  world  to  say  that  Prus- 
sia, out  of  love  of  conquest,  began  a  fearful  war,  which  she  could 
have  avoided?" 

"There  is  no  reason  in  this  war,"  said  General  Retzow ;  "for, 
though  Austria,  Saxony,  and  Russia  are  not  our  friends,  they  have 
not  shown  as  yet  by  any  open  act  that  they  are  our  enemies ;  and 
though  Austria's  alliance  with  France  surprised  the  world,  so  also 
did  Prussia's  alliance  with  England.  Our  soldiers  will  hardly  know 
why  they  are  going  to  battle,  and  they  will  be  wanting  in  that  in- 
spiration which  is  necessary  to  excite  an  army  to  heroic  deeds. " 

"  Inspiration  shall  not  be  wanting,  and  my  army  as  well  as  your- 
selves shall  know  the  many  causes  we  have  for  this  war.  The 
reasons  I  have  given  you  as  yet  have  not  satisfied  you?  Well,  then, 
I  will  give  you  others ;  and,  by  Heaven,  you  will  be  content  with 
them  !  You  think  Austria's  unkindly  feelings  to  Pinissia  have  not 
been  shown  by  any  overt  act.  I  will  now  prove  to  you  that  she  is 
on  the  point  of  acting. "  And  Frederick,  lifting  up  some  papers 
from  his  desk,  continued:  "These  papers  will  prove  to  you,  what 
you  seem  determined  not  to  believe,  namely,  that  Saxony,  Russia, 
and  France  are  prepared  to  attack  I^i'ussia  with  their  combined 
forces,  and  to  turn  the  kingdom  of  Prussia  into  a  margraviate  once 
more.  These  papers  are  authentic  proofs  of  the  dangers  which 
hover  over  us.  I  will  now  inform  you  how  I  came  by  them,  so  that 
you  may  be  convinced  of  their  genuineness.  For  some  time  I  have 
suspected  that  there  was,  amongst  my  enemies,  an  alliance  against 
me,  and  tliat  they  had  formed  a  conti-act  in  which  they  had  sworn 
to  do  all  in  their  power  to  destroy  Prussia.  I  only  needed  to  have 
my  suspicions  confirmed,  and  to  have  the  proofs  of  this  contract  in 
my  hands.  Tliere  proofs  were  in  the  Saxon  archives,  and  in  the 
dispatches  of  the  Austrian  embassy.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to 
get  the  key  of  these  archives,  and  to  have  copies  of  these  dispatches. 
I  succeeded  in  doing  both.  Chance,  or  if  you  prefer  it,  a  kind  Provi- 
dence, came  to  my  aid.  Tlie  Saxon  chancellor,  Reinitz,  a  former 
servant  of  General  Winterfeldt,  came  from  Dresden  to  Potsdam  to 
look  for  Winterfeldt  and  to  confide  to  him  that  a  friend  of  his. 
Chancellor  Minzel  of  Dresden,  had  informed  him  that  the  state 
papers  interchanged  between  the  court  of  Vienna  and  Dresden 
were  kept  in  the  Dresden  archives,  of  which  he  had  the  key.  Win- 
terfeldt brought  me  this  important  message.  Reinitz  conducted  the 
first  negotiations  with  Menzel,  which  I  then  delivered  into  the 


DECLARATION  OF  WAR.  139 

hands  of  my  ambassador  in  Dresden,  Count  Mattzahn.  Menzel  was 
poor  and  covetous.  He  was  therefore  easily  to  be  bribed.  For  three 
years  Mattaahn  has  received  copies  of  every  dispatch  that  passed 
between  the  three  courts.  I  am  quite  as  well  informed  of  all  nego- 
tiations between  Austria  and  France,  for  the  secretary  of  the  Austrian 
legation  of  this  place,  a  Count  Weingarten,  gave  me,  for  promises 
and  gold,  copies  of  all  dispatches  that  came  from  Vienna  and  were 
forwarded  to  France.  You  see  the  corruption  of  man  has  borne  me 
good  fruit,  and  that  gold  is  a  magic  wand  which  reveals  all  secrets. 
And  now,  let  us  cast  a  hasty  glance  over  these  papers  which  I 
have  obtained  by  the  aid  of  treachery  and  bribery. " 

He  took  one  of  the  papers  and  spread  it  before  the  astonished 
generals.  "You  see  here,"  he  continued,  "a  sample  of  all  other 
negotiations.  It  is  a  copy  of  a  share  contract  which  the  courts  of 
Vienna  and  Dresden  formed  in  1745.  They  then  regarded  the  de- 
cline of  Prussia  as  so  sure  an  occurrence  that  they  had  already 
divided  amongst  themselves  the  different  parts  of  my  land.  Russia 
soon  afSxed  her  name  also  to  this  contract,  and  here  in  this  docu- 
ment you  will  see  that  these  three  powers  have  sworn  to  attack 
Prussia  at  the  same  moment,  and  that  for  this  conquest,  each  one  of 
the  named  courts  was  to  furnish  sixty  thousand  men. " 

While  the  generals  were  engaged  in  reading  these  papers,  the 
king  leaned  back  in  his  arm-chair,  gazing  keenly  at  Retzow  and 
Schwerin.  He  smiled  gayly  as  he  saw  Schwerin  pressing  his  lips 
tightly  together,  and  trying  in  vain  to  suppress  a  cry  of  rage,  and 
Retzow  clinching  his  fists  vehemently. 

When  the  papers  had  been  read,  and  Schwerin  was  preparing  to 
speak,  the  king,  with  his  head  thrown  proudly  back,  and  gazing 
earnestly  at  his  listeners,  interrupted  him,  saying : 

"  Now,  sirs,  perhaps  you  see  the  dangers  by  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded. Under  the  circumstances,  I  owe  it  to  myself,  to  my  honor, 
and  to  the  security  of  my  land,  to  attack  Austria  and  Saxony,  and 
so  to  nip  their  abominable  designs  in  the  bud,  before  their  allies 
are  ready  to  give  them  any  assistance.  I  am  prepared,  and  the  only 
question  to  be  answered  before  setting  our  army  in  motion,  is  where 
to  commence  the  attack  to  our  advantage?  For  the  deciding  of  tliis 
question,  I  have  called  you  together.  I  have  finished  and  now. 
Marshal  Schwerin,  it  is  your  turn. " 

The  old  gray  warrior  arose.  It  may  be  that  he  was  convinced 
by  the  powerful  proofs  and  words  of  the  king,  or  that  knowing  that 
his  will  was  law  it  were  vain  to  oppose  him,  but  he  was  now  as 
strongly  for  war  as  the  king  or  Winterfeldt. 

"If  there  is  to  be  war,"  said  he,  enthusiastically,  "let  us  start  to- 
jnOFFOw?  ta^e  Sa^^fopy,  and.  in  thfit  l»nd  of  qofr,  bijil4  magazjnfg 


140       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

for  the  holding  of  our  provisions,  so  as  to  secure  a  way  for  our 
future  operations  in  Bohemia. " 

"Ah!  now  I  recognize  my  old  Schwerin,"  said  the  king,  gayly 
pressing  the  marshal's  hand.  "No  more  delay!  'To  anicipate'  is 
my  motto,  and  shall,  God  willing,  be  Prussia's  in.  future." 

"And  our  army,"  said  Winterfeldt,  with  sparkling  eyes,  "has 
been  accustomed,  for  hundreds  of  years,  not  only  to  defend  them- 
selves, but  also  to  attack.  Ah,  at  last  it  is  to  be  granted  us  to  fight 
our  arch-enemies  in  open  field,  mischief -making  Austria,  intriguing 
Saxony,  barbarous  Russia,  and  finally  lying,  luxurious  France,  and 
to  convince  them  that,  though  we  do  not  fear  their  anger,  we  share 
their  hatred  with  our  whole  hearts. " 

"And  you,  Retzow,"  said  the  king,  sternly,  turning  to  the  gen- 
eral, who  was  sitting  silently  with  downcast  head  ;  "  do  your  views 
coincide  with  Schwerin's?  Or  do  you  still  think  it  were  better  to 
wait?" 

"Yes,  sire,"  said  Retzow,  sadly;  "I  think  delay,  under  the 
present  threatening  circumstances,  would  be  the  wisest  course  ;  I — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  valet,  who  approached 
the  king,  and  whispered  a  few  words  to  him. 

Frederick  turned  smilingly  to  the  generals.  "The  princes,  my 
brothers,  have  an-ived,"  said  he;  "they  were  to  be  here  at  this 
hour  to  hear  the  result  of  our  consultation.  And,  it  strikes  me, 
they  arrive  at  the  right  moment.    The  princes  may  enter. " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  KING  AND  HIS  BROTHERS. 

The  door  was  thrown  open  and  the  princes  entered.  First  came 
the  Prince  of  Prussia,  whose  pale,  dejected  countenance  was  to-day 
paler  and  sadder  than  usual.  Tlien  Prince  Henry,  whose  quick, 
bright  eyes  were  fixed  inquiringly  on  General  Retzow,  Tlie  general 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  shook  his  head.  Prince  Henry  must 
have  understood  these  movements,  for  his  brow  became  clouded, 
and  a  deep  red  suffused  his  countenance.  The  king,  who  had  seen 
this,  laughed  mockingly,  and  let  the  princes  approach  very  close  to 
him,  before  addressing  them. 

"Sirs,"  said  he,  "I  have  called  you  here,  because  I  have  some 
important  news  to  commimicate.  The  days  of  peace  are  over,  and 
war  is  at  hand  !" 

"War !  and  with  whom?"  said  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  earnestly. 
\       (« -^^  ^ j^  QP J.  enemies  1"  cried  the  king.    "  War  with  those  w^Q 


THE  KiNa  AND  HIS  BROTHERS.  141 

have  sworn   Prussia's  destruction.      War  with   Austria,    France, 
Saxony,  and  Russia !" 

"That  is  impossible,  my  brother,"  cried  the  prince,  angrily. 
"  You  cannot  dream  of  warring  against  such  powerful  nations.  You 
cannot  believe  in  the  possibility  of  victory.  Powerful  and  mighty 
as  your  spirit  is  it  will  have  to  succumb  before  tlie  tremendous 
force  opposed  to  it.  Oh  !  my  brother !  my  king !  be  merciful  lo 
yourself,  to  us,  to  our  country.  Do  not  desire  the  impo.ssible !  Do 
not  venture  into  the  stormy  sea  of  war,  to  fight  with  your  frail  barks 
against  the  powerful  men  of  war  that  your  enemies  will  direct  against 
you.  We  cannot  be  victorious !  Preserve  to  your  country  j'our 
own  precious  life,  and  that  of  her  brave  sons. " 

The  king's  eyes  burned  with  anger;  they  were  fixed  with  an 
expression  of  deep  hatred  VL\x>n  the  prince. 

"Truly,  my  brother,"  said  he,  in  a  cold,  cutting  tone,  "fear  has 
made  you  eloquent.     Y'ou  speak  as  if  inspired." 

A  groan  escaped  the  prince,  and  he  laid  his  hand  unwittingly 
upon  his  sword.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  his  lips  trembled  so  vio- 
ently,  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  Fear  !"  said  he,  slowly.  "  That  is  an  accusation  which  none  but 
the  king  would  dare  to  bring  against  me,  and  of  which  I  will  clear 
myself,  if  it  comes  to  this  imhappy  war  which  your  majesty  pro- 
poses, and  which  I  now  protest  against,  in  the  name  of  my  rights, 
my  children,  and  my  country." 

"And  I,"  said  Prince  Henry,  earnestly — "I  also  protest  against 
this  war  !  Have  pity  on  us,  my  king.  Much  as  I  thirst  for  renown 
and  glory,  often  as  I  have  prayed  to  God  to  grant  me  an  occasion  to 
distinguish  myself,  I  now  swear  to  subdue  forever  this  craving  for 
renown,  if  it  can  only  be  obtained  at  the  price  of  this  frightful, 
useless  war.  You  stand  alone !  Without  allies,  it  is  impossible  to 
conquer.     Why,  then,  brave  certain  ruin  and  destruction?" 

The  king's  countenance  was  frightful  to  look  at ;  his  eyes  were 
flashing  with  rage,  and  his  voice  was  like  thunder,  it  was  so  loud 
and  threatening. 

"  Enough  of  this  !"  said  he  ;  "you  were  called  here,  not  to  advise, 
but  to  receive  my  commands.  The  brother  has  heard  you  patiently, 
but  now  the  King  of  Prussia  stands  before  you,  and  demands  of  you 
obedience  and  submission.  We  are  going  to  battle  ;  this  is  settled  ; 
and  your  complaints  and  fears  will  not  alter  my  determination. 
But  all  those  who  fear  to  follow  me  on  the  battle-field,  have  my  per- 
mission to  remain  at  home,  and  pass  their  time  in  love  idyls.  Who, 
amongst  you  all,  prefers  this?  Let  him  speak,  and  he  shall  follow 
his  own  inclinations." 

"None  of  us  could  do  that,"  said  F*rince  Henry,   passionately 


14^       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  If  the  King  of  Prussia  calls  his  soldiers,  they  will  all  come  and 
follow  their  chieftain  joyfully,  though  they  are  marching  to  certain 
death.  I  have  already  given  you  my  personal  opinion  ;  it  now  restfc 
with  me  to  obey  you,  as  a  soldier,  as  a  subject.  This  I  will  do  joy- 
fully, without  complaining. " 

"I  also,"  said  Prince  Augustus  William,  earnestly.  "Like  my 
brother,  I  will  know  how  to  subdue  my  own  opinions  and  fears, 
and  to  follow  in  silent  obedience  my  king  and  my  chieftain." 

The  king  threw  a  glance  of  hatred  upon  the  pale,  disturbed 
countenance  of  the  prince. 

"You  will  go  where  I  command  you,"  said  he,  sharply  ;  and  not 
giving  the  prince  time  to  answer,  he  turned  abruptly  to  Marshal 
Schwerin. 

"Well,  marshal,  do  you  wish  for  a  furlough,  during  this  war? 
You  heard  me  say  I  would  refuse  it  to  no  one. " 

"  I  demand  nothing  of  your  majesty,  but  to  take  part  in  the  first 
battle  against  your  enemies.  I  do  not  ask  who  they  are.  The  hour 
for  consultation  is  past ;  it  is  now  time  to  act.  Let  us  to  work,  and 
that  right  quickly. " 

"Yes,  to  battle,  sire,"  cried  Retzow,  earnestly.  "As  soon  as 
your  majesty  has  said  that  this  war  is  in-evocable,  your  soldiers 
must  have  no  further  doubts,  and  they  will  follow  you  joyfully,  to 
conquer  or  to  die. " 

"And  you,  Winterfeldt, "  said  the  king,  taking  his  favorite's 
hand  tenderly ;  "have  you  nothing  to  say?  Or  have  the  Prince  of 
Prussia's  fears  infected  you,  and  made  of  you  a  coward?" 

"Ah,  no  I  sire,  "said  Winterfeldt,  pressing  the  king's  hand  to 
his  breast;  "how  could  my  courage  fail,  when  it  is  Prussia's  hero 
king  that  leads  to  battle?  How  can  I  be  otherwise  than  joyous  and 
confident  of  victory,  when  Frederick  calls  us  to  fight  against  his 
wicked  and  arrogant  enemies?  No!  I  have  no  fears;  God  and  the 
true  cause  is  on  our  side. " 

Prince  Henry  approached  nearer  to  the  king,  and  looking  at  him 
proudly,  he  said : 

"Sire,  you  asked  General  Winterfeldt  if  he  shared  the  Prince  of 
Pruasia's  fears.  He  says  no  ;  but  I  will  beg  your  majesty  to  remem- 
ber, that  I  share  entirely  the  sentiments  of  my  dear  and  noble 
brother. " 

As  he  finished,  he  threw  an  angry  look  at  General  Winterfeldt. 
The  latter  commenced  a  fierce  rejoinder,  but  was  stopped  by  the  king. 

"  Be  still,  Winterfeldt, "  he  said ;  "  war  has  as  yet  not  been  de- 
clared, and  till  then,  let  there  at  least  be  peace  in  my  own  house." 
Then  approaching  Prince  Henry,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der, he  said  kindly  :  "We  will  not  exasperate  each  other,  my  brother 


THE  KING  AND  HIS  BROTHERS.  143 

You  have  a  noble,  generous  soul,  and  no  one  would  dare  tx3  doubt 
your  courage.  It  grieves  me  that  you  do  not  share  my  views  as  to 
the  necessity  of  this  war,  but  I  know  that  you  will  be  a  firm,  helpful 
friend,  and  share  with  me  my  dangers,  my  burdens,  and  if  God 
wills  it,  also  my  victory. " 

"  Not  I  alone  wnll  do  this, "  cried  Prince  Henry,  "  but  also  my 
brother,  Augustus  William,  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  whose  heart  is  not 
less  brave,  whose  courage — " 

"Hush,  Henry !  I  pray  you,"  said  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  sadly ; 
"  speak  not  of  my  courage.  By  defending  it,  it  would  seem  that  it 
had  been  doubted,  and  that  is  a  humiliation  which  I  would  stand 
from  no  one. " 

The  king  appeared  not  to  have  heard  these  words.  He  took  some 
papers  from  the  table  by  which  he  was  standing,  and  said : 

"  All  that  remains  to  be  told  you  now,  is  that  I  agree  with  Mar- 
shal Schwerin.  We  will  commence  the  attack  in  Saxony.  To 
Saxony,  then,  gentlemen  !  But,  until  the  day  before  the  attack,  let 
us  keep  even  the  question  of  war  a  secret. " 

Then,  with  the  paper  imder  his  arm,  he  passed  tlirough  tlie  saloon 
and  entered  his  library. 

There  was  a  long  pause  after  he  left.  The  Prince  of  Prussia,  ex- 
hausted by  the  storm  which  had  swept  over  his  soul,  had  with- 
drawn to  one  of  the  windows,  where  he  was  hid  from  view  by  the 
heavy  satin  damask  curtains. 

Prince  Henry,  standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  gazed 
after  his  brother,  aind  a  deep  sigh  escaped  him.  Then  turning  to 
Retzow,  he  said : 

"You  would  not,  then,  fulfil  my  brother's  and  my  own  wishes?" 

"  I  did  all  that  was  in  my  power,  prince, "  said  the  general,  sigh- 
ing, "Your  highness  did  not  wish  this  war  to  take  place  ;  you  de- 
sired me,  if  the  king  asked  for  my  advice,  to  tell  him  that  we  were 
too  weak,  and  should  therefore  keep  the  peace.  Well,  I  said  this, 
not  only  because  you  desired  it,  but  because  it  was  also  my  own 
opinion.  But  the  king's  will  was  unalterable.  He  has  meditated 
this  war  for  years.  Years  ago,  with  Winterfeldt's  aid,  he  drew  all 
the  plans  and  made  every  other  arrangement. " 

"  Winterfeldt !"  murmured  the  prince  to  himself,  "  yes,  Winter- 
feldt  is  the  fiend  whose  whispers  have  misled  the  king.  We  sus- 
pected this  long  ago,  but  we  had  to  bear  it  in  silence,  for  we  could 
not  prevent  it. " 

And  giving  his  passionate  nature  full  play,  he  approached  Gen- 
eral Winterfeldt,  who  was  whispering  to  Marshal  Schwerin. 

"You  can  rejoice,  general,"  said  the  prince,  "for  now  you  caij 
tfike  your  private  revenge  op  the  Empress  of  Russia. " 


144        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Winterfeldt  encountered  the  prince's  angry  glance  with  a  quiet, 
cheerful  look. 

"Your  highness  does  me  too  much  honor  in  thinking  that  a  poor 
soldier,  such  as  I  am,  could  be  at  enmity  with  a  royal  empress. 
What  could  this  Russian  empress  have  done  to  me,  that  could  call 
for  revenge  on  my. part?" 

"What  has  slie  done  to  you?''  said  tlie  prince,  with  a  mocking 
smile.  "Two  things,  which  man  finds  hardest  to  forgive!  She 
outwitted  you,  and  took  your  riches  from  you.  Ah  !  general,  I  fear 
this  war  will  be  in  vain,  and  that  you  will  not  be  able  to  take  your 
wife's  jewels  from  St.  Petei"sburg,  where  the  empress  retains  them." 

Winterfeldt  subdued  his  anger,  and  replied  :  "You  have  related 
us  a  beautiful  fairy  tale,  prince,  a  tale  from  the  Arabian  Nights,  in 
which  there  is  a  talk  of  jewels  and  glorious  treasures,  only  that  in 
this  tale,  instead  of  the  usual  dragon,  an  empress  guards  them.  I 
acknowledge  that  I  do  not  understand  jour  highness. " 

"But  I  understand  you  perfecth',  general.  I  know  your  ambi - 
tious  and  proud  plans.  You  wish  to  make  your  name  reno^ATied. 
General,  I  consider  you  are  mucli  in  fault  as  to  this  war.  You  were 
the  king's  confidant — you  had  your  spies  every  where,  who,  for  heavy 
rewards,  imparted  to  you  the  news  by  which  you  stimulated  the 
king." 

"If  in  your  eyes,^!  said  Winterfeldt,  proudly,  "it  is  wrong  to 
spend  your  gold  to  find  out  tlie  intrigues  of  your  own,  your  king's, 
and  your  country's  enemies,  I  acknowledge  that  I  am  in  fault,  and 
deserve  to  be  punished.  Yes,  everywhei*e  I  have  had  my  spies,  and 
thanks  to  them,  the  king  knows  Saxony's,  Austi'ia's,  and  Russia's 
intentions.  I  paid  these  spies  with  my  own  gold.  Your  highness 
may  thus  perceive  that  I  am  not  entirely  dependent  on  those  jewels 
of  my  wife  which  are  said  to  be  in  the  Empress  of  Russia's  pos- 
session." 

At  this  moment  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  who  had  been  a  silent 
witness  to  this  scene,  approached  General  Winterfeldt. 

"  General, "  said  he,  in  a  loud,  solemn  voice,  "  you  are  the  cau.se 
of  this  unfortunate  war  wliich  will  soon  devastate  om-  poor  land. 
Tlie  responsibility  falls  upon  your  head,  and  woe  to  you  if  this  war, 
caused  by  your  ambition,  should  be  the  ruin  of  our  beloved  country  ! 
I  would,  if  there  were  no  punishment  for  you  on  earth,  accuse  you 
before  the  throne  of  God,  and  the  blood  of  the  slaughtered  sons  of 
my  country,  the  blood  of  my  future  subjects,  would  cry  to  Heaven 
for  revenge  !  Woe  to  you  if  this  war  should  be  the  rain  of  Pinissia !" 
repeated  Prince  Henry.  "  I  could  never  forgive  that ;  I  would  hold 
youi"  ambition  responsible  for  it,  for  you  have  access  to  the  king's 
b^ftit,  and  instep  of  dissipating  his  distrust  against  thes?  foreign 


THE  LAUREL-BRANCH.  145 

nations,  you  have  endeavored  to  nourish  it — instead  of  softening 
the  king's  anger,  you  have  given  it  fresh  food." 

"What  I  have  done,"  cried  Wiuterfeldt,  solemnly  rasing  his 
right  hand  heavenward — "  what  I  have  done  was  done  from  a  feeling 
of  duty,  from  love  of  my  country,  and  from  a  firm,  unshaken  trust 
in  my  king's  star,  which  cannot  fade,  but  must  become  ever  more 
and  more  resplendent !  May  God  punish  me  if  I  have  acted  from 
other  and  less  noble  motives  I" 

"Yes,  may  God  punish  you — may  He  not  revenge  your  crime 
upon  our  poor  countiy  !"  said  Prince  Augustus  William.  "I  have 
said  my  last  upon  this  sad  subject.  From  now  on,  my  private 
opinions  are  subdued — I  but  obey  the  king's  commands.  What  he 
requires  of  me  shall  be  done — where  he  sends  me  I  will  go,  without 
questioning  or  considering,  but  quietly  and  obediently,  as  it  becomes 
a  true  soldier.  I  hope  that  you,  my  brother,  Marshal  Schwerin, 
and  General  Retzow,  will  follow  my  example.  The  king  has  com- 
manded— we  have  but  to  obey  cheerfully. " 

Then,  arm  in  arm,  the  princes  left  the  audience-room  and  re- 
turned to  Berlin. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE     LAUREL-BRANCH. 

While  this  last  scene  was  passing  in  the  audience -room,  the  king 
had  retired  to  his  study,  and  was  walking  up  and  down  in  deep 
thought.  His  countenance  was  stern  and  sorrowful — a  dark  cloud 
was  upon  his  brow — his  lips  were  tightly  pressed  together — powerful 
emotions  were  disturbing  his  whole  being.  He  stopped  suddenly, 
and  raising  his  head  proudly-,  seemed  to  be  listening  to  the  thoughts 
and  suggestions  of  his  soul. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "these  were  his  very  words:  'I  protest  against 
this  war  in  the  name  of  my  rights,  my  children,  and  my  country  !' 
Ah,  it  is  a  pleasant  thought  to  him  that  ho  is  to  be  heir  to  my  throne. 
He  imagines  that  he  has  rights  beyond  those  that  I  grant  him,  and 
that  he  can  protest  against  an  action  of  mine !  He  is  a  rebel,  a 
traitor.  He  dares  to  think  of  the  time  when  I  will  be  gone — of  the 
time  when  he  or  his  children  will  wear  this  crown  I  I  feel  that  I 
hate  him  as  my  father  hated  me  because  I  was  his  heir,  and  because 
the  sight  of  me  always  reminded  him  of  his  death !  Yes,  I  hate 
him !  The  effeminate  boy  will  disturb  the  great  work  which  I  am 
endeavoring  to  pefrorm.  Under  his  Aveak  hands,  this  Prussia, 
\rhicb  I  would  majke  great  and  powerful,  will  fall  to  pieces,  o^n^  al} 


146        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

my  battles  and  conquests  will  be  in  vain.  He  will  not  know  how  to 
make  use  of  them.  I  wiU  make  of  my  Prussia  a  mighty  and  much- 
f eared  nation.  And  if  I  succeed,  by  giving  up  my  every  thought  to 
this  one  object,  then  my  brother  will  come  and  destroy  this  work 
which  has  cost  me  such  pain  and  trouble.  Prussia  needs  a  strong, 
active  king,  not  an  effeminate  boy  who  passes  his  life  in  sighing  for 
his  lost  love  and  in  grumbling  at  fate  for  making  him  the  son  of  a 
king.  Yes,  I  feel  that  I  hate  him,  for  I  foresee  that  he  will  be  the 
destroyer  of  my  great  work.  But  no,  no — I  do  him  wrong,"  said 
the  king,  "and  my  suspicious  heart  sees,  perhaps,  things  that  are 
not.  Ah,  has  it  gone  so  far?  Must  I,  also,  pay  the  tribute  which 
princes  give  for  their  pitiful  splendor?  I  suspect  the  heir  to  my 
throne,  and  see  in  him  a  secret  enemy  !  Misu*ust  has  already  thrown 
her  shadow  upon  my  soul,  and  made  it  dark  and  troubled.  Ah, 
there  will  come  a  cold  and  dreary  night  for  me,  when  I  shall  stand 
alone  in  the  midst  of  all  my  glory  1" 

His  head  fell  upon  his  breast,  and  he  remained  silent  and  im- 
movable. 

"  And  am  I  not  alone,  now  ?"  said  he,  and  in  his  voice  there  was 
a  soft  and  sorrowful  sound.  "  My  brothers  are  against  me,  because 
they  do  not  understand  me ;  my  sisters  fear  me,  and,  because  this 
war  will  disturb  their  peace  and  comfort,  will  hate  me.  My 
mother's  heart  has  cooled  toward  me,  because  I  will  not  be  influ- 
enced by  her ;  and  Elizabeth  Christine,  whom  the  world  calls  my 
wife,  weeps  in  solitude  over  the  heavy  chains  which  bind  her.  Not 
one  of  them  loves  me  ! — not  one  believes  in  me,  and  in  my  future  I" 

The  king,  given  up  to  these  melancholy  thoughts,  did  not  hear  a 
knock  at  his  door ;  it  was  now  repeated,  and  so  loudly,  that  he 
could  not  but  hear  it.  He  hastened  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  Winter- 
feldt  was  there,  with  a  sealed  paper  in  his  hand,  which  he  gave  to 
the  king,  begging  him  at  the  same  time  to  excuse  this  interruption. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  you  could  have  done, "  said  the  king,  enter- 
ing his  room,  and  signing  to  the  general  to  follow  him.  "I  was  in 
bad  company,  with  my  own  sorrowful  thoughts,  and  it  is  good  that 
you  came  to  dissipate  them. " 

"This  letter  will  know  well  how  to  do  that,"  said  Winterfeldt, 
handing  him  the  packet ;  "a  courier  brought  it  to  me  from  Berlin." 

"Letters  from  my  sister  Wilhelmina,  from  Italy,"  said  the  king, 
joyfully  breaking  the  seal,  and  unfolding  the  papers. 

There  were  several  sheets  of  paper  closely  written,  and  between 
them  lay  a  small,  white  packet.  Tlie  king  kept  the  latter  in  his 
hand,  and  commenced  reading  eagerly.  As  he  read,  the  dark,  stern 
expression  gradually  left  his  countenance.  Hi.s  brow  was  smooth 
§b4  C?iU»,  9U^  §  tjoft,  beautiful  smile  plajred  about  bis  lipa.     He 


THE  BALL  AT  COUNT  BRCHL'S.  147 

finished  the  letter,  and  throwing  it  hastily  aside,  tore  open  the 
package.  In  it  was  a  laurel-branch,  covered  with  beautiful  leaves, 
which  looked  as  bright  and  green  as  if  they  had  just  been  cut.  Tlie 
king  raised  it,  and  looked  at  it  tenderly. 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  said  he,  with  a  beaming  smile,  "see  how  kind 
Providence  is  to  me  !  On  this  painful  day  she  sends  me  a  glorious 
token,  a  laurel-branch.  My  sister  gathered  it  for  me  on  my  birth- 
day. Do  you  know  where,  my  friend?  Bow  your  head,  be  all 
attention ;  for  know  that  it  is  a  branch  from  the  laurel-tree  that 
grows  upon  Virgil's  grave  !  Ah,  my  friend,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the 
great  and  glorious  spirits  of  the  olden  ages  were  greeting  me  with 
this  laurel  which  came  from  the  grave  of  one  of  their  greatest  poets. 
My  sister  sends  it  to  me,  accompanied  by  some  beautiful  verses  of 
her  own.  An  old  fable  says  that  these  laurels  grew  spontaneously 
upon  Virgil's  grave,  and  that  they  are  indestructible.  May  this  be 
a  blessed  omen  for  me  !  I  greet  you,  Virgil's  holy  shadow  !  I  bow 
down  before  you,  and  kiss  in  all  humility  your  ashes,  which  have 
been  turned  into  laurels !" 

Thus  speaking,  the  king  bowed  his  head,  and  pressed  a  fervent 
kiss  upon  the  laurel.     He  then  handed  it  to  Winterfeldt. 

"Do  likewise,  my  friend,"  said  he;  "your  lips  are  worthy  to 
touch  this  holy  branch,  to  inhale  the  odor  of  these  leaves  which 
grew  upon  Virgil's  grave.  Kiss  this  branch — and  now  let  us  swear 
to  become  worthy  of  this  kiss ;  swear  that  in  this  war,  which  will 
soon  begin,  laurels  shall  either  rest  upon  our  brows  or  upon  our 
graves !" 

Winterfeldt  having  sworn,  repeated  these  words  after  him. 

"Amen  1"  said  the  king  ;  "  God  and  Virgil  have  heard  us. " 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  BALL  AT  CX>UNT  BRCHL'S. 

Count  Bruhl,  first  minister  to  the  King  of  Saxony,  gave  to-day 
a  magnificent /^<e  in  his  palace,  in  honor  of  his  wife,  whose  birth- 
day it  was.  The  feast  was  to  be  honored  by  the  presence  of  the 
King  of  Poland,  the  Prince  Elector  of  Saxony,  Augustus  III. ,  and 
Maria  Josephine,  his  wife.  This  was  a  favor  which  the  proud  queen 
granted  to  her  favorite  for  the  first  time.  For  she  who  had  insti- 
tuted there  the  stem  Spanish  etiquette  to  which  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed at  the  court  of  her  father,  Joseph  I. ,  had  never  taken  a  meal 
at  the  table  of  one  of  her  subjects ;  so  holy  did  she  consider  her 
royal  person,  that  the  ambassadors  of  foreign  powers  were  not  per 


i48       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  ttlS  FAMILY. 

mitted  to  sit  at  the  same  table  with  her.  Therefore,  at  every  feast 
at  the  court  of  Dresden,  there  was  a  small  table  set  apart  for  the 
royal  family,  and  only  the  prime  minister,  Count  Briihl,  was  de- 
serving of  the  honor  to  eat  with  the  king  and  queen.  This  was  a 
custom  which  pleased  no  one  so  well  as  the  count  himself,  for  it 
insured  him  from  the  danger  that  some  one  might  approach  the 
royal  pair,  and  inform  them  of  some  occurrence  of  which  the  count 
wished  them  to  remain  in  ignorance. 

There  were  many  slanderers  in  this  wretched  kingdom — many 
who  were  envious  of  the  count's  high  position — many  who  dared  to 
believe  that  the  minister  employed  the  king's  favor  for  his  own 
good,  and  not  for  that  of  his  country.  They  said  that  he  alone  lived 
luxuriously  in  this  miserable  land,  while  the  people  hungered  ;  that 
he  spent  every  year  over  a  million  of  thalers.  They  declared  that 
he  had  not  less  than  five  millions  now  lying  in  the  banks  of  Rotter- 
dam, Venice,  and  Marseilles ;  others  said  that  he  had  funds  to  the 
amount  of  seven  millions.  One  of  these  calumniators  might  possibly 
approach  the  king's  table  and  whisper  into  the  royal  ear  his  wicked 
slanders ;  one  of  these  evil-doers  might  even  have  the  audacity  to 
make  his  unrighteous  complaints  to  the  queen.  This  it  was  that 
caused  Count  Briihl  to  tremble ;  this  it  was  that  robbed  him  of  sleep 
at  night,  of  peace  by  day,  this  fear  of  a  possible  disgrace. 

He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of  Count  Lerma,  minis- 
ter to  King  Philip  IV.  of  Spain.  Lerma  was  also  the  ruler  of  a 
king,  and  reigned  over  Spain,  as  Bi-iihl  over  Saxon)'.  All  had  suc- 
cumbed to  his  power  and  influence,  even  the  royal  family  trembled 
when  he  frowned,  and  felt  themsleves  honored  by  his  smile.  What 
was  it  that  caused  the  ruin  of  this  all-powerful,  irreproachable  fa- 
vorite? A  little  note  which  King  Philip  found  between  his  napkin 
one  day,  upon  which  was  this  address:  "To  Philip  IV.,  once  King 
of  Spain,  and  Master  of  both  the  Indies,  but  now  in  the  service  of 
Count  Lerma !"  This  it  was  that  caused  the  count's  ruin  ;  Philip  was 
enraged  by  this  note,  and  the  powei-ful  favorite  fell  into  disgrace. 

Count  Briihl  knew  this  history,  and  was  on  his  guard.  He  knew 
that  even  the  air  which  he  breathed  was  poisoned  by  the  malice  of 
his  enemies  ;  that  those  who  paused  in  the  streets  to  greet  him  rev- 
erentially when  he  passed  in  his  gilded  carriage,  cursed  him  in 
their  inmost  hearts ;  that  those  friends  who  pressed  his  hand  and 
sung  songs  in  his  praise,  would  become  his  bitterest  enemies  so  soon 
as  he  ceased  paying  for  their  friendship  with  position,  with  pen- 
sions, with  honors,  and  with  orders.  He  spent  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands yearly  to  gain  friends  and  admirers,  but  still  he  was  in  constant 
fear  that  some  enemy  would  undermine  him.  Tliis  had  indeed  once 
happened.     During  the  time  that  the  king's  favor  was  shared  equally 


THE  BALL  AT  COUNT  BRttHL'8.  149 

with  Count  Briihl,  Count  Sulkovsky,  and  Count  Hennicke,  whilst 
playing  cards,  a  piece  of  gold  was  given  to  the  king,  upon  which 
was  represented  the  crown  of  Poland,  resting  upon  the  shoulders  of 
three  men,  with  the  following  inscription  :  "  There  are  three  of  us, 
two  pages  and  one  lackey  !" 

Tlie  King  of  Poland  was  as  much  enraged  by  this  satirical  piece 
of  gold  as  was  the  King  of  Spain  by  his  satirical  note.  But  Count 
Briihl  succeeded  in  turning  the  king's  anger  upon  the  two  other 
shoulder-bearers  of  his  crown.  Counts  Sulkovsky  and  Hennicke  fell 
into  disgrace,  and  were  banished  from  the  court ;  Count  Briihl  re- 
mained, and  reigned  as  absolute  master  over  Poland  and  Saxony  ! 

But  reigning,  he  still  trembled,  and  therefore  he  favored  the 
queen's  fancy  for  the  strictest  etiquette  ;  therefore,  no  one  but  Count 
Briihl  was  to  eat  at  the  royal  table  ;  he  himself  took  their  napkins 
from  their  plates  and  handed  them  to  the  royal  couple  ;  no  one  was 
to  approach  the  sovereigns  who  was  not  introduced  by  the  prime 
minister,  who  was  at  once  master  of  ceremonies,  field-marshal,  and 
grand  chamberlain,  and  received  for  each  of  these  different  posts 
a  truly  royal  salary.  Etiquette  and  the  fears  of  the  powerful  fa- 
vorite kept  the  royal  pair  almost  prisoners. 

But  for  to-day  etiquette  was  to  be  done  away  with  ;  the  crowned 
heads  were  to  be  gracious,  so  as  to  lend  a  new  glory  to  their  favorite's 
house.  To-day  the  count  was  fearless,  for  there  was  no  danger  of  a 
traitor  being  among  his  guests.  His  wife  and  himself  had  drawn 
up  the  list  of  invitations.  But  still,  as  there  might  possibly  be 
those  among  them  who  hated  the  count,  and  would  very  gladly  in- 
jure him,  he  had  ordered  some  of  the  best  paid  of  his  friends  to 
watch  all  suspicious  characters,  not  to  leave  them  alone  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  not  to  overlook  a  single  word  of  theirs.  Of  course,  it 
was  understood  that  the  count  and  his  wife  must  remain  continually 
at  the  side  of  the  king  and  queen,  that  all  who  wished  to  speak  to 
them  must  first  be  introduced  by  the  host  or  hostess. 

The  count  was  perfectly  secure  to-day,  and  therefore  gay  and 
happy.  He  had  been  looking  at  the  different  an-angements  for  this 
feast,  and  he  saw  with  delight  that  they  were  such  as  to  do  honor  to 
his  house.  It  was  to  be  a  summer  festival :  the  entire  palace  had 
been  turned  into  a  greenhouse,  that  served  only  for  an  entrance  to 
the  actual  scene  of  festivities.  This  was  the  immense  garden.  In 
the  midst  of  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  groups  of  flowers,  im- 
mense tents  were  raised ;  they  were  of  rich,  heavy  silk,  and  were 
festooned  at  the  sides  with  golden  cords  and  tassels.  Apart  from 
these  was  a  smaller  one,  which  outshone  them  all  in  magnificence. 
Tlie  roof  of  this  tent  rested  upon  eight  pillars  of  gold  ;  it  was  com- 
posed Qf  a  dark-red  velvet,  over  wbiQh  a  slight  gauze,  worked  with 


150       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FA^HLY. 

gold  and  silver  stars,  was  gracefully  arranged.  Upon  the  table  be- 
low this  canopy,  which  re3t.ed  uiX)n  a  rich  Turkish  carpet,  there  was 
a  heavy  service  of  gold,  and  the  most  exquisite  Venetian  glass  ;  the 
immense  pyramid  in  the  middle  of  the  table  was  a  master-work  of 
Benevenuto  Cellini,  for  which  the  count  had  paid  in  Rome  one  hun- 
dred thousand  thalers.  There  were  but  seven  seats,  for  no  one  was  to 
eat  at  this  table  but  the  royal  pair,  the  prince-elector  and  his  wife,  the 
Prince  Xavier,  and  the  Count  and  Countess  Brtihl.  This  was  a 
new  triumph  that  the  count  had  prepared  for  himself ;  he  wished 
his  guests  to  see  the  exclusive  royal  position  he  occupied.  And  no 
one  could  remain  in  ignorance  of  this  trivmiph,  for  from  every  part 
of  the  garden  the  royal  tent  could  be  seen,  being  erected  ujxjn  a  slight 
eminence.  It  was  like  a  scene  from  fairj'land.  There  were  rush- 
ing cascades,  beautiful  marble  statues,  arbors  and  bowers,  in  which 
were  birds  of  every  color  from  every  clime.  Behind  a  group  of 
trees  was  a  lofty  structure  of  the  purest  marble,  a  shell,  borne  aloft 
by  gigantic  Tritons  and  mermaids,  in  which  there  was  room  for 
fifty  musicians,  who  were  to  fill  the  air  with  sweet  sounds,  and 
never  to  become  so  loud  as  to  weary  the  ear  or  disturb  conversation. 

If  the  tents,  the  rushing  cascades,  the  rare  flowers,  the  many- 
.^olored  birds,  were  a  beautiful  sight  by  daylight,  how  much  more 
entrancing  it  would  be  at  night,  when  illuminated  by  thousands  of 
brilliant  lamps  1 

The  coimt,  having  taken  a  last  look  at  the  arrangements  and  seen 
that  they  were  perfect,  now  retired  to  his  rooms,  and  there,  with 
the  aid  of  his  twelve  valets,  he  commenced  his  toilet.  The  countess 
had  already  been  in  the  hands  of  her  Parisian  coiffeur  for  some  hours. 

The  count  wore  a  suit  of  blue  velvet.  The  price  of  embroidery 
in  silver  and  pearls  on  his  coat  would  have  furnished  himdreds  of 
wretched,  starving  families  with  bread.  His  diamond  shoe-buckles 
would  almost  have  sufficed  to  pay  the  army,  which  had  gone  unpaid 
for  months.  When  his  toilet  was  finished,  he  entered  his  study  to 
devote  a  few  moments,  at  least,  to  his  public  duties,  and  to  read 
those  letters  which  to-day's  post  had  brought  him  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  and  which  his  secretary  was  accustomed  to  place  in  his 
study  at  this  hour.  He  took  a  letter,  broke  the  seal  hastily,  and 
skimming  over  it  quickly,  threw  it  aside  and  opened  another,  to 
read  anew  the  complaints,  the  prayers,  the  flatteries,  the  assurances 
of  love,  of  his  correspondents.  But  none  of  them  were  calculated 
to  compel  the  minister's  attention.  He  had  long  ago  hardened  his 
heart  against  prayers  and  complaints ;  as  for  flattery,  he  well  knew 
that  he  had  to  pay  for  it  with  pensions,  with  position,  with  titles, 
with  orders,  etc.,  etc.  But  it  seemed  as  if  the  letters  were  not  all 
9f  the  usual  sort,  for  the  expression  of  iu^iffereoce  which  had  rested 


THE  BALL  AT  COUNT  BRtJHL'S.  151 

uix)n  his  countenance  while  reading  the  others,  had  vanished  and 
given  place  to  one  of  a  very  different  character.  This  letter  was 
from  Flemming,  the  Saxon  ambassador  in  Berlin,  and  contained 
strange,  wild  rumors.  The  King  of  Prussia,  it  seemed,  had  left 
Berlin  the  day  before,  with  all  the  princes  and  his  staff  oflScers,  and 
no  one  knew  exactly  where  he  was  going !  Rumor  said,  though, 
that  he  and  his  army  were  marching  toward  Saxony  !  After  read 
ing  this,  Count  Briihl  broke  out  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"Well,  "said  he,  "it  must  be  granted  that  this  little  poet-king, 
Frederick,  has  the  art  of  telling  the  most  delightful  fairy-tales  to 
his  subjects,  and  of  investing  every  action  of  his  with  the  gi-eatest 
importance.  Ah,  Margrave  of  Brandenburg !  we  will  soon  be  in  a 
condition  to  take  your  usurped  crown  fi-om  your  head.  Parade  as 
much  as  you  like — make  the  world  believe  in  you  and  your  absurd 
manoeuvres — the  day  will  soon  come  when  she  will  but  see  in  you  a 
poor  knight  with  naught  but  his  title  of  marquis. "  With  a  trium- 
phant smile  he  threw  down  the  letter  and  grasped  the  next. 

"Another  from  Flemming?"  said  he.  "Why,  truly,  the  good 
count  is  becoming  fond  of  writing.  Ah, "  said  he,  after  reading  it 
carelissly,  "  more  warnings !  He  declares  that  the  King  of  Prussia 
intends  attacking  Saxony — that  he  is  now  already  at  our  borders. 
He  then  adds,  that  the  king  is  aware  of  the  contract  which  we  and 
our  friends  have  signed,  swearing  to  attack  Prussia  simultaneously. 
Well,  my  good  Flemming,  there  is  not  much  wisdom  needed  to  tell 
me  that  if  the  king  knows  of  our  contract,  he  will  be  all  the  more 
on  his  guard,  and  will  make  preparations  to  defend  himself  ;  for  he 
would  not  be  so  foolhardy  as  to  attempt  to  attack  our  three  united 
armies.  No,  no.  Our  regiments  can  remain  quietly  in  Poland — 
the  seventeen  thousand  men  here  will  answer  all  purj^ses. 

"There  is  but  one  more  of  these  begging  letters,"  said  he,  open- 
ing it,  but  throwing  it  aside  without  reading  it.  Out  of  it  fell  a 
folded  piece  of  paper.  "Why, "  said  the  count,  taking  it  up,  "there 
are  verses.  Has  Flemming's  fear  of  the  Prussian  king  made  a  poet 
of  him?"    He  opened  it  and  read  aloud  : 

" '  A  piece  of  poetry  which  a  friend,  Baron  Pollnitz,  gave  me  yes- 
terday.    The  author  is  the  King  of  Prussia. ' 

"Well,"  said  the  count,  laughing,  "apiece  of  poetry  about  me 
— the  king  does  me  great  honor.  Let  us  see ;  perhaps  these  verses 
can  be  read  at  the  table  to-day,  and  cause  some  amusement.  'Ode 
to  Count  Bruhl, '  with  this  inscription  :  'Jlne  faut  pas  s'inquieter 
de  I'avenir.'  That  is  a  wise  philosophical  sentence,  which  never- 
theless did  not  spring  from  the  brain  of  his  Prussian  majesty.  And 
now  for  the  verses. "  And  straightening  the  paper  before  him,  he 
commenced  • 


162       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Eselave  malheureux  de  la  haute  fortuns, 
D'un  roi  trop  indolent  souverain  absolu, 
Surcharg6  de  travaux  dont  le  soin  rimportune. 
Brtihl,  quitte  des  grandeurs  Tembarras  superflu. 

Au  sein  de  ton  opulence 

Je  vols  le  Dieu  des  ennuis, 

Et  dans  ta  magnificence 

Le  repos  fait  tes  nuits. 

"  Descend  de  ce  palais  dont  le  superbe  fatte 
Domine  sur  la  Saxe,  s'616vent  aits  cieux. 
D'ofi  ton  esprit  cralntif  conjure  la  tempete 
Que  souldve  &la  cour  un  peuple  d'envieux : 

Vois  cette  grandeur  fragile 

Et  cesse  enfin  d' admirer 

L'6clat  pompeux  d'lme  vllle 

Oti  tout  feint  de  t'adorer."  • 

The  count's  voice  had  at  first  been  loud,  pathetic,  and  slightly 
ironical,  but  it  became  gradually  lower,  and  sank  at  last  almost  to 
a  whisper.  A  deep,  angry  red  suffused  his  face,  as  he  read  on. 
Again  his  voice  became  louder  as  he  read  the  last  two  verses : 

"  Connaissez  la  Fortune  inconstante  et  16gdre; 
La  perflde  se  plait  aux  plus  cruels  revers. 
On  la  voit  abuser  le  sage,  le  vulgaire, 
Jouer  insolemment  tout  ce  faible  univers  ; 

Aujourd'hui  c'est  sur  ma  tSte 

Qu'elle  rgpand  des  faveum, 

Dds  demain  elle  s'apprSte 

A  les  emporter  ailleurs. 

"  Fixe-t-elle  sur  moi  sa  bizarre  inconatance, 
Mon  coeur  lui  saura  gr6  du  blen  qu'elle  me  fait 
Veut-elle  en  d'autrea  lieux  marquer  sa  bienveillanoe, 
Je  lui  remets  ses  dons  sans  chagrin,  sana  regret. 

Plein  d'une  vertu  plus  forte 

J'6pou3ela  pauvret6 

SI  pour  dot  elle  m'apjKjrte 

L'honneur  et  la  probitfi." 

The  paper  fell  from  the  count's  hand  and  he  looked  at  it  thought- 
fully. An  expression  of  deep  emotion  rested  upon  his  coimtenance, 
which,  in  spite  of  his  fifty  years,  could  still  be  called  handsome — aa 
he  repeated  in  a  low,  trembling  voice : 

"J'6pouse  lapauvret6. 
Si  pour  dot  elle  m'apporte 
L'honneur  et  la  probitS." 

The  sun  coming  through  the  window  rested  upon  his  tall  form, 
causing  the  many  jewels  upon  his  garments  to  sparkle  like  stars  ou 

*  See  note,  page  571. 


THE  BALL  AT  COUNT  BR^HL'S.  163 

the  blue  background,  enveloping  him  in  a  sort  of  glory.  He  had 
repeated  for  the  third  time,  ^J'ipouse  la  pauvreti,"  when  the  door 
leading  to  his  wife's  apartments  was  opened,  and  the  countess 
entered  in  the  full  splendor  of  her  queenly  toilet,  sparkling  with 
jewels.  The  count  was  startled  by  her  entrance,  but  he  now  broke 
out  into  a  loud,  mocking  laugh. 

"  Truly,  countess, "  said  he,  "  you  could  not  have  found  a  better 
moment  to  interrupt  me.  For  the  last  half  hour  my  thoughts  have 
been  given  up  to  sentiment.  Wonderful  dreams  have  been  chasing 
each  other  through  my  brain.  But  you  have  again  shown  yourself 
my  good  angel,  Antonia.  by  dissipating  these  painful  thoughts." 
He  pressed  a  fervent  kiss  upon  her  hand,  then  looking  at  her  with 
a  beaming  countenance,  he  said  : 

"  How  beautiful  you  are,  Antonia ;  you  must  have  foimd  that 
mysterious  river  which,  if  bathed  in,  insures  perpetual  youth  and 
beauty." 

"Ah!"  said  the  countess,  smiling,  "all  know  that  no  one  can 
flatter  so  exquisitely  as  Count  Briihl. " 

"  But  I  am  not  always  paid  with  the  same  coin,  Antonia, "  said 
the  count,  earnestly.  "  Look  at  this  poem,  that  the  King  of  Prussia 
has  written  of  me.     Truly,  there  is  no  flattery  in  it." 

While  reading,  the  countess's  countenance  was  perfectly  clear; 
not  the  slightest  cloud  was  to  be  seen  u]X)n  her  brow. 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  a  good  poem '?"  said  she,  indifferently. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  must  acknowle<lge  that  there  was  a  cel^taiu 
fire  in  it  that  touched  my  heart. " 

"  I  find  it  stupid, "  said  she,  sternly.  "  There  is  but  one  thing  in 
it  that  pleases  me,  and  that  is  the  title — '  U  ne  faut  pas  sHnquieter 
de  I'avenir. '  Tlie  little  King  of  Prussia  has  done  well  to  choose  this 
for  his  motto,  for  without  it,  it  strikes  me,  his  peace  would  be  for- 
ever gone,  for  his  future  will  surely  be  a  humiliating  one. " 

The  count  laughed. 

"  How  true  that  is  !"  said  he ;  "  and  a  just  answer  to  his  stupid 
poem.     Speak  of  something  else. " 

He  tore  the  paper  into  small  pieces,  which,  with  a  graceful  bow, 
he  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  countess. 

"A  small  sacrifice,"  said  he,  "which  I  bring  to  my  goddess. 
Tread  upon  it,  and  destroy  the  king's  words  with  your  faiiy  foot. " 

The  countess  obeyed  him,  laughingly. 

"But  now,  count,"  said  she,  "we  will,  for  a  moment,  speak  of 
graver  things.  I  have  received  letters  from  London — from  our  son. 
Poor  Henry  is  in  despair,  and  he  has  requested  me  to  intercede  for 
him.  You  were  always  very  stern  with  him,  my  friend,  therefore 
lie  fears  your  anger,  now  that  he  has  been  a  little  imprudent. " 
11 


154       FREDERI10K  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  the  count;  "I  hope  it  is  no  duel,  for 
that  would  make  me  extremely  angiy. " 

"  It  is  nothing  of  that  kind.  His  imprudence  is  of  another  sort. 
He  is  in  want  of  money. " 

"  Money  1"  said  the  count,  in  amazement ;  "  why,  barely  a  month 
ago,  I  sent  him  six  hundred  thousand  thalers.  That,  and  what  lie 
took  with  him,  three  months  ago,  is  quite  a  large  sum,  for  it 
amounts  to  more  than  a  million  of  thalers. " 

"  But,  my  dear  husband,  in  England  every  thing  is  so  dear  !  and 
there,  to  move  amongst  and  impress  those  rich  lords,  he  must  really 
have  more.  It  seems  that  our  Charles  Joseph  has  fallen  in  love  with 
a  lady  whom  all  London  worships  for  her  surpassing  beauty.  But 
she,  having  a  cold  heart,  will  listen  to  no  one.  She  laughs  at  those 
who  flatter  her,  and  will  i-eceive  no  presents.  She  seemed  an  in- 
vincible fortress,  but  our  son,  thanks  to  stratagem,  has  taken  it. " 

"I  am  curious  to  know  how,"  said  the  count,  laughing. 

"  He  played  a  game  of  ecarte  with  her.  He  playe<l  for  notes  to 
the  amount  of  ten  pounds,  and,  at  first,  Charles  won,  much  to  the 
displeasure  of  the  proud  lady,  who  did  not  relish  being  beaten,  even 
in  a  game  of  cards.  Charles,  perceiving  this,  played  badly.  The 
lady  won  from  him  eighty  thousand  pounds. " 

"Eightj-  thousand  pounds,"  cried  the  count,  "why,  that  is  a  half 
a  million  of  thalers  !" 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  the  countess,  angril5%  "that 
that  is  too  much  to  gain  the  favor  of  a  beautiful  lady  ?" 

"No  !  it  is  not  too  much  ;  but  it  is  certainlj'  enough.  I  hope,  at 
least,  it  was  not  in  vain. " 

"No,  no!  and  London  is  now  raving  about  the  intellectual,  genial 
and  generous  son  of  Count  Bruhl.  I  trust,  count,  that  you  instantly 
sent  him  a  check." 

"  Yes, "  said  the  coimt,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  But,  countess, 
if  tlie  king  were  to  hear  this  story,  it  would  cause  much  evil ;  for 
you  know  that  he  believes  in  economy  ;  luckily  for  me,  he  believes 
me  to  be  an  economical  man.  Tliose  enemies  who  would  not 
dare  to  accuse  us,  would  have  no  fears  of  saying  eyil  of  our  son; 
he  will  certainly  hear  this  eighty-thousand-pound  story." 

"  We  will  tell  him  ourselves,  but  say  that  the  story  is  much  ex 
aggerated. " 

"What  a  wonderful  woman  you  are,  Antonia!"  said  her  hus- 
band ;  "your  cov.nsel  is  wise  ;  we  will  follow  it." 

At  this  moment  a  slight  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  the 
secretary  entered  with  a  sealed  letter. 

"  A  courier  from  Torgau  just  arrived  with  this  from  the  com- 
mandant. " 


THE  INTERRUPTED  FEAST.  165 

The  count's  brow  became  clouded. 

"  Business !  forever  business  1"  said  he.  "  How  dared  you  annoy 
me  with  this,  upon  the  birthday  of  my  wife?" 

"  Pardon,  your  excellency ;  but  the  courier  brought  with  this 
packet  such  strange  news,  that  I  ventured  to  disturb  you,  to  com- 
municate— " 

The  beating  of  drums  and  the  thunder  of  cannon  interrupted 
him. 

"  The  king  and  queen  are  now  entering  their  carriage, "  cried  the 
count.  "No  more  business  to-day,  my  friend.  It  will  keep  till  to- 
morrow. Come,  Antonia,  we  must  welcome  their  majesties. "  And 
taking  his  wife's  hand,  he  passed  out  of  the  study. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    INTERRUPTED    FEAST. 

As  the  Cotmt  Bruhl  and  his  wife  entered  the  saloon,  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  they  were  the  royal  couple  for  whom  all  this  company 
was  waiting.  Every  one  of  any  rank  or  position  in  Dresden  was 
present.  There  were  to  be  seen  the  gold  and  silver  embroidered 
uniforms  of  generals  and  ambassadors ;  jewelled  stars  were  sparkling 
upon  many  breasts ;  the  proudest,  loveliest  women  of  the  court, 
bearing  the  noblest  Saxon  names,  were  there,  accompanied  by 
princes,  counts,  dukes,  and  barons,  and  one  and  all  were  bowing 
reverentially  to  the  coimt  and  his  wife.  And  now,  at  a  sign  from 
the  grand  chamberlain,  the  pages  of  the  countess,  clothed  in  gar- 
ments embroidered  with  silver  and  pearls,  approached  to  carry  her 
train ;  beside  them  were  the  count's  officers,  followed  by  all  the 
noble  guests.  Thus  they  passed  through  the  third  room,  where  the 
servants  of  the  house,  numbering  upward  of  two  hvmdred,  were 
placed  in  military  order,  and  then  on  until  they  came  to  the  grand 
entrance,  which  had  been  turned  into  a  floral  temple. 

The  royal  equipage  was  at  the  gate ;  the  host  and  hostess  advanced 
to  welcome  the  king  and  queen,  whose  arrival  had  been  announced 
by  the  roar  of  cannon. 

The  king  passed  through  the  beautiful  avenue,  and  greeted  the 
company  placed  on  either  side  of  him,  gayly.  The  queen,  sparkling 
with  diamonds,  forcing  herself  also  to  smile,  was  at  his  side ;  and 
as  their  majesties  passed  on,  saying  here  and  there  a  kind,  merry 
word,  it  seemed  as  if  the  sun  had  just  risen  over  all  these  noble, 
rich,  and  powerful  guests.  This  was  reflected  upon  every  counte- 
nance. 


156       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  gods  had  demanded  from  Olympus  to  favor  these  mortals 
with  their  presence,  and  to  enjoy  themselves  among  them.  And  truly, 
even  a  king  might  spend  some  happy  hours  in  this  delightful  garden. 

The  air  was  so  soft  and  mild,  so  sweet  from  the  odor  of  many 
flowers ;  the  rustling  of  the  trees  was  accompanied  by  soft  whispers 
of  music  that  seemed  floating  like  angels'  wings  upon  the  air. 
Every  countenance  was  sparkling  with  happiness  and  content,  and 
the  king  could  but  take  the  flattering  unction  to  his  soul  that  all  his 
subjects  were  equally  as  happy  as  the  elite  by  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded. 

Pleased  with  this  thought  and  delighted  with  all  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  f^ie,  the  king  gave  himself  up  to  an  enjoyment  which, 
though  somewhat  clouding  his  character  as  a  deity,  was  immensely 
gratifying  to  him. 

He  abandoned  himself  to  the  delights  of  the  table  !  He  devoured 
with  a  sort  of  amiable  astonishment  the  rare  and  choice  dishes 
which,  even  to  his  experienced  and  pampered  palate,  appeared  un- 
fathomable mysteries  ;  luxuries  had  been  procured,  not  only  from 
London  and  Paris,  but  from  every  part  of  the  world.  He  delighted 
himself  with  the  gold  and  purple  wines,  whose  vintage  was  un- 
known to  him,  and  whose  odor  intoxicated  him  more  than  the 
perfume  of  flowers.  He  requested  the  count  to  give  the  name  and 
history  of  all  these  wines. 

The  count  obeyed  in  that  shy,  reverential  manner  in  which  he 
was  accustomed  to  speak.  He  charmed  him  by  relating  the  many 
diflSculties  he  had  overcome  to  obtain  this  wine  from  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  which  had  to  cross  the  line  twice  to  arrive  at  its  highest 
perfection.  He  said  that  for  two  years  he  had  been  thinking  of  this 
gloriously  happy  day,  and  had  had  a  ship  upon  the  sea  for  the  pur- 
pose of  perfecting  this  wine.  He  bade  the  king  notice  the  strangely 
formed  flsh,  which  could  only  be  obtained  from  the  Chinese  sea. 
Then,  following  up  the  subject,  he  spoke  of  the  peculiar  and  laugh- 
able customs  and  habits  of  the  Chinese,  thus  causing  even  the  proud 
queen  to  laugh  at  his  humorous  descriptions. 

Count  Bruhl  was  suddenly  interrupted  in  an  unusual  manner. 

His  secretary,  Willmar,  approached  the  royal  table,  and  without 
a  word  of  excuse,  without  greeting  the  king,  banded  the  count  a 
sealed  package ! 

This  was  such  a  crime  against  courtly  etiquette  that  the  count, 
from  sheer  amazement,  made  no  excuses  to  the  king  ;  he  only  cast  a 
threatening  look  at  the  secretary.  But  as  he  encountered  Willmar's 
pale,  terrified  countenance,  a  tremor  seized  him,  and  he  cast  an 
eager  glance  upon  the  papers  in  his  hand,  which,  no  doubt,  con- 
tained the  key  to  all  this  mystery. 


THE  INTERRUPTED  FEAST.  157 

"They  are  from  the  commandant  at  Leipsic, "  whispered  the 
secretary  ;  "  I  entreat  your  excellency  to  read  them. " 

Before  the  count  had  time,  however,  to  open  the  dispatch,  a  still 
stranger  event  took  place. 

The  Prussian  ambassador,  who,  upon  the  plea  of  illness,  had  de- 
clined Count  Briihrs  invitation,  suddenly  appeared  in  the  garden, 
accompanied  by  the  four  secretaries  of  his  legation,  and  approached 
the  royal  table.  Upon  his  countenance  there  was  no  sign  of  sick- 
ness, but  rather  an  expression  of  great  joy. 

As  he  neared  the  tent,  the  gay  song  and  merry  jest  ceased. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  inquiringly  upon  the  individual  who  had  dared  to 
disturb  this  fMe  by  his  presence.  The  music,  which  had  before  filled 
the  air  with  joyous  sounds,  was  now  playing  a  heart-breaking  air. 

Count  Briihl  now  arose  and  advanced.  He  greeted  the  Pussian 
amabssador  in  a  few  cold,  ceremonious  words. 

But  Count  Mattzahn's  only  answer  to  this  greeting  was  a  silent 
bow.  He  then  said,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  king 
and  queen : 

"Count  Briihl,  as  ambassador  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  I  request 
you  to  demand  an  audience  forme  at  once  from  the  King  of  Saxony. 
I  have  an  important  dispatch  from  my  king. " 

Count  Briihl,  struck  with  terror,  could  only  gaze  at  him,  he  had 
not  the  strength  to  answer. 

But  King  Augustus,  rising  from  his  seat,  said  : 

"  The  ambassador  of  my  royal  brother  can  approach  ;  I  consent  to 
grant  him  this  audience  ;  it  is  demanded  in  so  strange  a  manner,  it 
must  surely  have  some  important  object. " 

The  count  entered  the  royal  tent. 

"Is  it  your  majesty's  wish,"  saidMattzahn,  solemnly,  "that  all 
these  noble  guests  shall  be  witnesses  ?  I  am  commanded  by  my  royal 
master  to  demand  a  private  audience." 

"  Draw  the  curtain  !"  said  the  king. 

Count  Briihl,  with  trembling  fingers,  drew  the  golden  cord,  and 
the  heavy  curtains  fell  to  the  ground.  They  were  now  completely 
separated  from  the  guests. 

"And  now,  count,"  said  the  king,  taking  his  seat  by  his  proud, 
silent  queen,  "  speak. " 

Bowing  profoundly,  Count  Mattzahn  drew  a  dispatch  from  his 
pocket,  and  read  in  a  loud,  earnest  voice. 

It  was  a  manifesto  from  the  King  of  Prussia,  written  by  himself 
and  addressed  to  all  the  European  courts.     In  it,  Frederick  denied 
being  actuated  by  any  desire  of  conquest  or  gain,  but  declared  that 
lie  was  compelled  to  commence  thi.s  war  to  which  Austria  had  pro 
voked  him  by  her  many  and  prolonged  insults. 


158       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

There  was  a  pause  when  the  count  finished  reading.  Upon  the 
gentle,  amiable  countenance  of  the  king  there  was  now  an  angry 
look.  The  queen  was  indifferent,  cold,  and  liaughty ;  she  seemed 
to  have  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  Count  Mattzahn,  but,  turning 
to  the  princess  at  her  side,  she  asked  a  perfectly  irrelevant  question, 
which  was  answered  in  a  whisjjer. 

Countess  Briihl  dared  not  raise  her  eyes ;  she  did  not  wish  her 
faithless  lover.  Count  Mattzalm,  whose  cunning  political  intrigues 
she  now  perfectly  understood,  to  see  her  pain  and  confusion.  The 
prince-elector,  well  aware  of  the  importance  of  this  hour,  stood  at 
the  king's  side ;  behind  him  was  Count  Bruhl,  whose  handsome, 
sparkling  countenance  was  now  deadly  pale. 

Opposite  to  this  agitated  group,  stood  the  Pnissian  ambassador, 
whose  haughty,  quiet  appearance  presented  a  marked  contrast.  His 
clear,  piercing  glance  rested  upon  each  one  of  them,  and  seemed  to 
fathom  every  thought  of  their  souls.  His  tall,  imposing  form  was 
raised  proudly,  and  there  was  an  expression  of  the  noblest  satisfac- 
tion upon  his  countenance.  After  waiting  some  time  in  vain  for  an 
answer,  he  placed  the  manifesto  before  the  king. 

"With  your  majesty's  permission,  I  will  now  add  a  few  words," 
said  he. 

"  Speak  !"  said  the  king,  laconically. 

"  His  majesty,  my  royal  master, "  continued  Count  Mattzahn,  in 
a  loud  voice,  "  has  commissioned  me  to  give  your  majesty  the  moat 
quieting  assurances,  and  to  convince  you  that  his  march  through 
Saxony  has  no  purpose  inimical  to  you,  but  that  he  only  uses  it  as  a 
passway  to  Bohemia. " 

The  king's  countenance  now  became  dark  and  stem,  even  the 
queen  lost  some  of  her  haughty  indifference. 

"How?"  said  the "iing  ;  "Frederick  of  Prussia  does  us  the  honor 
to  pass  through  our  land  without  permission?  He  intends  coming 
to  Saxony?" 

"Sire,"  said  Mattzahn,  with  a  slight  smile,  "his  majesty  is 
already  there !  Yesterday  his  army,  divided  into  three  columns, 
passed  the  Saxon  borders  !" 

The  king  rose  hastily  from  his  seat.  The  queen  was  deadly  pale, 
her  lips  trembled,  but  she  remained  silent,  and  cast  a  look  of  bitter 
hatred  upon  the  ambassador  of  her  enemy. 

Count  Binihl  was  leaning  against  his  chair,  trembling  with 
terror,  when  the  king  turned  to  him. 

"I  ask  my  prime  minister  if  he  knows  how  far  the  King  of 
Prussia  has  advanced  into  Saxony?" 

"Sire,  I  was  in  perfect  ignorance  of  this  unheard-of  event.  The 
King  of  Prussia  wishes  to  surprise  us  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the 


THE  INTERRUPTED  FEAST.  159 

most  skilful  magician.  Perhaps  it  is  one  of  those  April  jests  which 
Frederick  II.  is  so  fond  of  practising. " 

"  Your  excellency  can  judge  for  yourself, "  said  Coimt  Mattzahn, 
earnestly,  "  whether  the  taking  of  towns  and  fortresses  is  to  be  con- 
sidered a  jest.  For,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  you  have  this  day 
received  two  dispatches,  informing  you  of  my  royal  master's  line  of 
march." 

"How?"  said  the  king,  hastily  ;  "you  were  aware  of  this,  count, 
and  I  was  not  informed  ?  You  received  important  dispatches,  and  I 
was  not  notified  of  it?" 

"  It  is  true, "  said  the  count,  much  embarrassed.  "  I  received  two 
couriers.  The  dispatches  of  the  first  were  handed  to  me  the  same 
moment  your  majesties  entered  my  house ;  I  received  the  other  just 
as  Coimt  Mattzahn  arrived.     I  have,  therefore,  read  neither. " 

"  With  your  majesty's  permission, "  said  Count  Mattzahn,  "  I  will 
inform  you  of  their  contents. " 

"  You  will  be  doing  me  a  great  service, "  said  the  king,  earnestly. 

"The  first  dispatch,  sire,  contained  the  news  that  his  majesty  the 
King  of  Prussia  had  taken  without  resistance  the  fortresses  of  Torgau 
and  Wittenberg !" 

A  hollow  groan  escaped  the  king  as  he  sank  in  his  chair.  The 
queen  became  paler  than  before. 

"What  more?"  said  the  king,  gloomily.  ^ 

"The  second  dispatch,"  continued  Count  Mattzahn,  smilingly, 
"  informed  his  excellency  Count  Briihl  that  the  King  of  Prussia,  my 
noble  and  victorious  master,  was  pressing  forward,  and  had  also 
taken  Leipsic  without  the  slightest  resistance  !" 

"How  !"  said  the  king,  "he  is  in  Leipsic?" 

"  Sire,  I  think  he  was  there, "  said  Count  Mattzahn,  laughing ; 
"  for  it  seems  that  the  Prussians,  led  by  their  king,  have  taken  the 
wings  of  the  morning.  Frederick  was  in  Leipsic  when  the  courier 
left — he  must  now  be  on  his  way  to  Dresden.  But  he  has  commis- 
sioned me  to  say  that  his  motive  for  passing  through  Saxony  is  to 
see  and  request  your  majesty  to  take  a  neutral  part  in  this  war  be- 
tween Austria  and  Prussia." 

"  A  neutral  part !"  said  the  king,  angrily,  "  when  my  land  is  in- 
vaded without  question  or  permission,  and  peace  broken  in  this  in- 
explicable manner.     Have  you  any  other  message,  count?" 

"  I  have  finished,  sire,  and  humbly  ask  if  you  have  any  answer 
for  my  sovereign?" 

"  Tell  the  king,  your  master,  that  I  will  raise  my  voice  through- 
out the  land  of  Germany  to  complain  of  this  unheard-of  and  arbi- 
trary infringement  of  the  peace.  At  the  throne  of  the  Gterman 
emperor  I  wjll  demand  by  what  right  the  King  of  Prussia  dares  tO 


160       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

enter  Saxony  with  his  army  and  take  possession  of  my  cities.  You 
can  depart,  sir  ;  I  have  no  further  answer  for  his  majesty  1" 

The  count,  bowing  reverentially  to  the  king  and  queen,  left  thg 
royal  tent. 

Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  prime  minister.  From  him  alone, 
who  was  considered  the  soul  of  the  kingdom  of  Saxony,  help  and 
counsel  was  expected.  All  important  questions  were  referred  to 
him,  and  all  were  now  eagerly  looking  for  his  decision.  But  the 
powerful  favorite  was  in  despair.  He  knew  how  utterly  impossible 
it  was  to  withstand  the  King  of  Prussia's  army.  Every  arrange- 
ment for  this  war  had  been  made  on  paper,  but  in  reality  little  had 
been  accomplished.  The  army  was  not  in  readiness !  The  prime 
minister  had  been  in  want  of  a  few  luxuries  of  late,  and  had,  there- 
fore, as  he  believed  there  would  be  no  war  until  the  following 
spring,  reduced  it.  He  knew  how  little  Saxony  was  prepared  to 
battle  against  the  King  of  Prussia's  disciplined  troops,  and  the  am- 
bassador's friendly  assurances  did  not  deceive  him. 

"Well,  count,"  said  the  king,  after  a  long  pause,  "how  is  this 
ntrange  request  of  Frederick  II. ,  that  we  should  remain  neutral,  to 
be  answered?" 

Before  the  coimt  was  able  to  answer,  the  queen  said,  in  a  loud 
voice : 

"  By  a  declaration  of  war,  my  husband !  This  is  due  to  your 
honor.  We  have  been  insulted  ;  it  therefore  becomes  you  to  throw 
down  the  gauntlet  to  your  presumptuous  adversary. " 

"  We  will  continue  this  conversation  in  my  apartments, "  said  the 
king,  rising  ;  "this  is  no  place  for  it.  Our  beautiful  feast  has  been 
disturbed  in  a  most  brutal  manner.  Coxmt  Briihl,  notify  the  differ- 
ent ambassadors  that,  in  an  hour,  I  will  receive  them  at  my  palace. " 

"  This  hour  is  mine !"  thought  the  queen,  as  she  arose ;  "  in  it  I 
will  stimulate  my  husband's  soft  and  gentle  heart  to  a  brave,  war- 
like decision  ;  he  will  yield  to  my  prayers  and  tears. "  She  took  the 
king's  arm  with  a  gay  smile,  and  left  the  tent,  followed  by  the 
princes,  and  the  host  and  hostess. 

Silently  they  passed  the  festive  tables,  from  which  the  guests  had 
risen  to  greet  them.  The  courtiers  sought  to  read  in  their  counte- 
nances the  solution  of  that  riddle  which  had  occupied  them  since 
the  arrival  of  the  Prussian  ambassador,  and  about  which  they  had 
been  anxiously  debating. 

But,  upon  the  queen's  coimtenance  there  was  now  her  general 
look  of  indifference.  It  is  true,  the  king  was  not  smiling  as  was  his 
wont  when  amongst  his  subjects,  but  his  pleasant  countenance  be- 
trayed no  fear  or  sorrow.  The  queen  maintained  her  exalted  bear- 
ing ;  nothing  had  passed  to  bow  her  proud  b9a4t 


THE  ARCHIVES  AT  DRESDEN.  161 

After  the  royal  guests  had  left,  Count  Briihl  returned.  He  also 
had  regained  his  usual  serenity.  With  ingenious  friendliness, he 
turned  to  his  guests,  and  while  requesting  them,  in  a  flattering 
manner,  to  continue  to  grace  his  wife's  f6te  by  their  presence,  de- 
manded for  himself  leave  of  absence.  Then  passing  on,  he  whis- 
pered here  and  there  a  few  words  to  the  different  ambassadors. 
They  and  the  count  then  disappeared. 

The  fUe  continued  quietly ;  the  music  recommenced  its  gay, 
melodious  sounds,  the  birds  carolled  their  songs,  and  the  flowers 
were  as  beautiful  and  as  sweet  as  before.  The  jewels  of  the  cour- 
tiers sparkled  as  brilliantly.  Their  eyes  alone  were  not  so  bright, 
and  the  happy  smile  had  left  their  lips.  They  were  all  weighed 
down  by  a  presentiment  that  danger  was  hovering  around  them. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  ARCHIVES  AT  DRESDEN. 

Count  Mattzahn's  prophecy  came  true.  The  King  of  Prussia 
came  to  Dresden,  and  there,  as  in  every  other  part  of  Saxony,  found 
no  resistance.  Fear  and  terror  had  gone  before  him,  disarming  all 
opposition.  The  king  and  prince-elector  were  not  accustomed  to 
have  a  will  of  their  own  ;  and  Count  Bruhl,  the  favorite  of  fortune, 
showed  himself  weak  and  helpless  in  the  hour  of  adversity.  It 
needed  the  queen's  powerful  energy,  and  the  forcible  representa- 
tions of  the  French  ambassador.  Count  Broglio,  to  arouse  them  from 
their  lethargy ;  and  what  Count  Broglio 's  representations,  and  the 
queen's  prayers  and  tears  commenced,  hatred  finished.  Count 
Bruhl's  sinking  courage  rose  at  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  still 
undermining  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  putting  an  end  to  his  victo- 
rious march.  It  was  only  necessary  to  detain  him,  to  prevent  him 
from  reaching  the  Boliemian  borders,  until  the  Austrian  army  came 
to  their  assistance,  until  the  French  troops  had  entered  and  taken 
possession  of  Prussia.  Tlierefore,  Count  Briihl  sent  courier  after 
courier  to  Saxony's  allies,  to  spread  her  cry  for  help  to  every  friendly 
court.  He  then  collected  the  army,  ordered  them  to  camp  at  Pima, 
which  was  very  near  the  boundary  of  Bohemia,  and,  as  it  was 
guarded  on  one  side  by  the  Elbe,  and  on  the  other  by  high  rocks, 
appeared  perfectly  secure.  When  these  preparations  were  com- 
menced, the  count's  courage  rose  considerably,  and  he  determined 
to  prove  himself  a  hero,  and  to  give  the  Saxon  army  the  inspiring 
consciousness  that,  in  the  hpyr  p{  danger,  th^jr  ]^ing  wovUd  be  ia 

their  mi^gt'. 


162       FREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILT. 

The  king  therefore  left  for  the  fortress  of  Konigdtein,  accompa 
nied  by  Count  Briihl,  leaving  the  army,  consisting  of  about  seven- 
teen thousand  men,  to  follow  under  the  command  of  Genera! 
Rutrosky,  and  to  encamp  at  the  foot  of  Konigstein.  Arrived  at 
Konigstein,  where  they  thought  themselves  perfectly  secure,  tlipy 
gave  themselvesi  up  to  the  free  and  careless  life  of  former  days.  They 
had  only  changed  their  residence,  not  their  character  ;  their  dreams 
were  of  future  victories,  of  the  many  provinces  they  would  take 
from  the  King  of  Prussia  ;  and  with  this  delightful  prosi>ect  the  old 
gay,  luxurious,  and  wanton  life  was  continued.  What  difference 
did  it  make  to  Count  Bruhl  that  the  army  was  only  provided  witli 
commissaiy  stores  for  fourteen  days,  and  that  this  time  was  almost 
past,  and  no  way  had  been  found  to  furnish  them  with  additional 
supplies.  Tlie  King  of  Prussia  had  garrisoned  every  outlet,  and 
only  the  King  of  Saxony's  foi-age- wagon  was  allowed  to  pass. 

Frederick  knew  better  than  the  Saxon  generals  the  fearful,  in- 
vincible enemy  that  was  marching  to  the  camp  of  Pirna.  What 
were  the  barricades,  the  palisades,  and  ambushes,  by  which  tJie 
camp  was  surrounded,  to  this  enemy?  This  foe  was  in  the  camp, 
not  outside  of  it — he  had  no  need  to  climb  the  barricades — he  came 
hither  flying  through  the  air,  breathing,  like  a  gloomy  bird  of 
death,  his  horrible  cries  of  woe.  This  enemy  was  hunger — enervat- 
ing, discouraging,  demoralizing  hunger ! 

The  fourteen  days  had  expired,  and  in  the  camp  of  Pirna  lan- 
guished seventeen  thousand  men  !  The  bread  rations  became  smaller 
and  smaller ;  but  the  third  part  of  the  usual  meat  ration  was  given  ; 
the  horses'  food  also  was  considerably  shortened.  Sorrow  and  star- 
vation reigned  in  the  camp.  Why  should  this  distress  Count  Briihl? 
He  lived  in  his  usual  luxurious  splendor,  with  the  king.  Looking 
out  from  his  handsome  apartments  upon  the  valley  lying  at  his  feet, 
he  saw  on  a  little  meadow  by  which  the  Elbe  was  flowing,  herds  of 
cows  and  calves,  sheep  and  beeves,  which  were  there  to  die,  like  the 
Saxon  soldiers,  for  their  king.  These  herds  were  for  the  royal  table  ; 
there  was,  therefore,  no  danger  that  the  enemy  visiting  the  army 
should  find  its  way  to  the  fortress.  It  was  also  forbidden,  ufwn 
pain  of  death,  to  force  one  of  these  animals  intended  for  the  royal 
table,  from  their  noble  calling,  and  to  satisfy  therewith  the  hungry 
soldiers.  Count  Bruhl  could  therefore  wait  patiently  the  arrival  of 
the  Austrian  army,  which  waa  already  in  motion,  under  the  com- 
mand of  General  Brown. 

While  the  King  of  Poland  was  living  gay  and  joyous  in  the  for- 
tress of  Konigstein,  the  queen  with  the  princes  of  the  royal  house 
had  remained  in  Dresden;  and  though  she  knew  her  husband's 
irresolute  character,  and  kiiew  that  the  King  of  Prussia,  counting 


THE  ARCHIVES  AT  DRESDEN.  163 

upon  this,  was  corresponding  witli  him,  endeavoring  to  persuade 
him  to  neutrality,  still  she  had  no  fears  of  her  husband  succumbing 
to  his  entreaties.  For  was  not  Count  Brtihl,  the  bitter,  irreconcila- 
ble enemy  of  Prussia,  at  his  side? — and  had  not  the  king  said  to  her, 
in  a  solemn  manner,  before  leaving  :  "Better  that  every  misfortune 
come  upon  us  than  to  take  the  part  of  our  enemies !"  The  queen, 
therefore,  felt  perfectly  safe  upon  this  point.  She  remained  in 
Dresden  for  two  reasons :  first,  to  watch  the  King  of  Prussia,  and 
then  to  guard  the  archives — those  archives  which  contained  the  most 
precious  treasures  of  Saxon  diplomacy — the  most  important  secrets 
of  their  allies.  These  papers  were  prized  more  highly  by  the  queen 
than  all  the  crown  jewels  now  lying  in  their  silver  casket;  and 
though  the  keeping  of  the  latter  was  given  over  to  some  one  else,  no 
one  seemed  brave  enough  to  shield  the  former.  No  one  but  herself 
should  guard  these  rich  treasures.  The  state  archives  were  placed 
in  those  rooms  of  the  palace  which  had  but  one  outlet,  and  that 
leading  into  one  of  the  queen's  apartments.  In  this  room  she  re- 
mained— she  took  her  meals,  worked,  and  slept  there — there  she 
received  the  princes  and  the  foreign  ambassjadors — always  guarding 
the  secret  door,  of  which  she  caiTied  the  key  fastened  to  a  gold 
chain  around  her  neck.  But  still  the  queen  was  continually  in  fear 
her  treasure  would  be  torn  from  her,  and  the  King  of  Prussia's 
seeming  friendliness  was  not  calculated  to  drive  away  this  anxiety. 
It  is  true  the  king  had  sent  her  his  compliments  by  Marshal  Keith, 
with  the  most  friendly  assurances  of  his  affection,  but  notwith- 
standing this,  the  chancery,  the  colleges,  and  the  mint  department 
liad  been  closed ;  all  the  artillery  and  ammunition  had  been  taken 
from  the  Dresden  ai-senal  and  carried  to  Magdeburg ;  some  of  the 
oldest  and  worthiest  officers  of  the  crown  had  been  dismissed  ;  and 
the  Swiss  guard,  intended  for  sei^vice  in  the  palace,  had  been  dis- 
armed. All  this  agreed  but  badly  with  the  king's  quieting  assur- 
ances, and  was  calculated  to  increase  the  hatred  of  his  proud  enemy. 
She  had.  nevertheless,  stifled  her  anger  so  far  as  to  invite  the  King 
of  Prussia,  who  was  staying  in  the  palace  of  the  Countess  Mori- 
zinska,  not  far  from  his  army,  to  her  table. 

Frederick  had  declined  this  invitation.  He  remained  quietly  in 
tlie  palace,  whose  doors  were  open  to  all,  giving  audience  to  all 
who  desired  it,  listening  to  their  prayers,  and  granting  their  wishes. 

The  Queen  of  Poland  heard  this  with  bitter  anger;  and  the 
more  gi-acious  the  King  of  Prussia  showed  himself  to  the  Saxons, 
the  more  furious  and  enraged  became  the  heart  of  this  princess. 

"He  will  turn  our  people  from  their  true  ruler,"  said  she  to 
Countess  Ogliva,  her  first  maid  of  honor,  who  was  sitting  at  her 
pide  upon  a  divan  placed  before  the  princess's  door.     "  This  hypo- 


164       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

critical  affability  will  only  sei*ve  to  gain  the  favor  of  our  subjects, 
and  turn  them  from  their  duty. " 

"  It  has  succeeded  pretty  well, "  said  the  countess,  sighing.  "  The 
Saxon  nobility  are  continually  in  the  antechamber  of  this  heretical 
king ;  and  yesterday  several  of  the  city  authorities,  accompanied  by 
the  foreign  ambassadors,  waited  upon  him,  and  he  received  them. " 

"  Yes,  he  receives  every  one  ;  he  gives  gay  balls  every  evening, 
at  which  he  laughs  and  jokes  merrily.  He  keeps  open  house,  and 
the  poor  people  assemble  there  in  crowds  to  see  him  eat. "  Maria 
Josephine  sighed  deeply.  "  I  hate  "this  miserable,  changeable  peo- 
ple !"  murmured  she. 

"  And  your  majesty  does  well, "  said  the  covmtess,  whose  wrinkled, 
yellow  countenance  was  now  illuminated  by  a  strange  fire.  "  The 
anger  of  God  will  rest  upon  this  heretical  nation  that  has  turned 
from  her  salvation,  and  left  the  holy  mother  church  in  haughty 
defiance.  The  King  of  Poland  cannot  even  appoint  true  Catholic- 
Christians  as  his  officers — every  position  of  any  importance  is  occu- 
pied by  heretics.  But  the  deluge  will  surely  come  again  upon  this 
sinful  people  and  destrgy  them. " 

The  queen  crossed  herself,  and  prayed  in  a  low  voice. 

The  countess  continued  :  "  This  Frederick  stimulates  these  hereti- 
cal Saxons  in  their  wicked  unbelief.  He,  who  it  is  well  known, 
laughs  and  mocks  at  every  religion,  even  his  own — attended,  yes- 
terday, the  Protestant  church,  to  show  our  people  that  he  is  a  pro- 
tector of  that  church. " 

"  Woe,  woe  to  him  !"  said  the  queen. 

"With  listening  ear  he  attended  to  his  so-called  preacher's  ser- 
mon, and  then  loudly  expressed  his  approval  of  it,  well  knowing 
that  this  preacher  is  a  favorite  of  heretics  in  Dresden.  This  cunning 
king  wished  to  give  them  another  proof  of  his  favor.  Does  your 
majesty  wish  to  know  of  the  present  he  made  this  preacher?" 

"What?"  said  the  queen,  with  a  mocking  laugh.  "Perhaps  a 
Bible,  with  the  marginal  observations  of  his  profligate  friends, 
Voltaire  and  La  Mettrie?" 

"  No,  your  majesty ;  the  king  sent  this  learned  preacher  a  dozen 
bottles  of  champagne !" 

"  He  is  a  blasphemous  scoffer,  even  with  that  which  he  declares 
holy.  But  punishment  will  overtake  him.  Already  the  voice  of  my 
exalted  nephew,  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  is  to  be  heard  through- 
out the  entire  land,  commanding  the  King  of  Prussia  to  return  at 
once  to  his  own  kingdom,  and  to  make  apologies  to  the  King  of 
Poland  for  his  late  insults.  It  is  possible  that,  in  his  haughty 
pride,  Frederick  will  take  no  notice  of  this  command.  But  it  will 
be  otherwise  with  the  generals  and  commandants  of  this  usurper. 


THE  ARCHIVES  AT  DRESDEN.  166 

They  have  been  commanded  by  the  emperor  to  leave  their  impious 
master,  and  not  to  be  the  sharers  of  his  frightful  crime. " 

"  I  fear, "  said  Countess  Ogliva,  sighing,  and  raising  her  eyes 
heavenward — "  I  fear  they  will  not  listen  to  the  voice  of  our  good 
emperor. " 

"But  they  will  hear  the  voice  of  his  cannon,"  cried  the  queen, 
impetuously ;  "  the  thunder  of  our  artillery  and  the  anger  of  God 
will  annihilate  them,  and  they  will  fall  to  the  ground  as  if  struck 
by  lightning  before  the  swords  blessed  by  our  holy  priests. " 

The  door  of  the  antechamber  was  at  this  moment  opened  vio- 
lently, and  the  queen's  chamberlain  appeared  upon  its  threshold. 

"  Your  majesty,  a  messenger  from  the  King  of  Prussia  requests 
an  audience, "  said  he. 

The  queen's  brow  became  clouded,  and  she  blushed  with  anger. 

"  Tell  this  messenger  that  I  am  not  in  a  condition  to  receive  his 
visit,  and  that  he  must  therefore  impart  to  you  his  message. " 

"  It  is,  no  doubt,  another  of  his  hypocritical,  friendly  assurances, " 
said  the  queen,  as  the  chamberlain  left.  "  He  has,  no  doubt,  some 
evil  design,  and  wishes  to  soothe  us  before  he  strikes." 

The  chamberlain  returned,  but  his  countenance  was  now  white 
with  terror. 

"Well !"  said  the  queen,  "  what  is  this  message?" 

"  Ah,  your  majesty, "  stammered  the  trembling  courtier,  "  my  lips 
would  not  dare  to  repeat  it ;  and  I  could  never  find  the  courage  to 
tell  you  what  he  demands. " 

"What  he  demands  !"  repeated  the  queen  ;  "has  it  come  to  that, 
that  a  foreign  prince  commands  in  our  land?  Go,  countess,  and 
in  my  name,  fully  empowered  by  me,  receive  this  King  of  Pmssia's 
message  ;  then  return,  and  dare  not  keep  the  truth  from  me. " 

Coimtess  Ogliva  and  the  chamberlain  left  the  royal  apartment, 
and  Maria  Josephine  was  alone.  And  now,  there  was  no  necessity 
of  guarding  this  mask  of  proud  quietude  and  security.  Alone,  with 
her  own  heart,  the  queen's  woman  nature  conquered.  She  did  not 
now  force  back  the  tears  which  streamed  from  her  eyes,  nor  did  she 
repress  the  sighs  that  oppressed  her  heart.  She  wept,  and  groaned, 
and  trembled.  But  hearing  a  step  in  the  antechamber,  she  dried 
her  eyes,  and  again  put  on  the  proud  mask  of  her  royalty.  It  was 
the  countess  returning.  Slowly  and  silently  she  passed  through  the 
apartment.  Upon  her  colorless  countenance  there  was  a  dark,  angry 
expression,  and  a  scoffing  smile  played  about  her  thin,  pale  lips. 

"  The  King  of  Prussia, "  said  she,  in  a  low,  whispering  voice,  as 
she  reached  the  queen,  "  demands  that  the  key  to  the  state  archives 
be  delivered  at  once  to  his  messenger.  Major  von  Vangenheim." 

Tlie  queen  raised  herself  proudly  from  her  seat. 


166       FREDEBICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FA3in.Y. 

"  Say  to  this  Major  von  Vangenheim  that  he  will  never  receive 
this  key  !"  said  she,  commandingly. 

The  countess  bowed,  and  left  the  room. 

"  He  has  left, "  said  she.  when  she  returned  to  the  queen  ;  "  though 
he  said  that  he  or  another  would  return." 

"  Let  us  now  coi  suit  as  to  what  is  to  be  done, "  said  the  queen. 
"^Send  for  Father  G  larini,  so  that  we  may  receive  his  advice." 

Thanks  to  the  queen's  consultation  with  her  confessor  and  her 
maid  of  honor,  the  King  of  Prussia's  messenger,  when  he  returned, 
was  not  denied  an  audience.  This  time,  it  was  not  Major  von  Van- 
genheim, but  General  von  Wylich,  the  Prussian  commandant  at 
Dresden,  whom  Frederick  sent. 

Maria  Josephine  received  him  in  the  room  next  to  the  archives, 
sitting  upon  a  divan,  near  to  the  momentous  door.  She  listened 
with  a  careless  indifference,  as  he  again  demanded,  in  the  king's 
name,  the  key  to  the  state  archives. 

The  queen  turned  to  her  maid  of  honor. 

"How  is  it  that  you  are  so  negligent,  countess?"  said  she  ;  "did 
I  not  tell  you  to  answer  to  the  messenger  of  the  king,  that  I  would 
give  this  key,  which  is  the  property  of  the  Prince-Elector  of  Saxony, 
and  which  he  intrusted  to  me,  to  no  one  but  my  husband?" 

"I  had  the  honor  to  fulfil  your  majesty's  command,"  said  the 
countess,  respectfully. 

"  How  is  it,  then, "  said  she,  turning  to  General  von  Wylich, 
"  that  you  dare  to  come  again  with  this  request,  which  I  have  al- 
ready answered?" 

"  Oh,  may  your  majesty  graciously  pardon  me, "  cried  the  general, 
deeply  moved ;  "  but  his  majesty,  my  king  and  master,  has  given 
me  the  sternest  commands  to  get  the  key,  and  bring  him  the  papers. 
I  am  therefore  under  the  sad  necessity  to  beseech  your  majesty  to 
agree  to  my  master's  will." 

"  Never !"  said  the  queen,  proudly.  "  That  door  shall  never  be 
opened  ;  you  shall  never  enter  it. " 

"Be  merciful.  I  dare  not  leave  here  without  fulfilling  my  mas- 
ter's commands.  Have  pity  on  my  despair,  yoiir  majesty,  and  give 
me  the  key  to  that  door. " 

"Listen!  I  shall  not  give  you  the  key,"  said  the  queen,  white 
and  trembling  with  anger;  "and  if  you  open  the  door  by  force,  I 
will  cover  it  with  my  body ;  and  now,  sir,  if  you  wish  to  murder 
the  Queen  of  Poland,  open  the  door. "  And  raising  her  proud,  im- 
posing form,  the  queen  placed  herself  before  the  door. 

"  Mercy  I  mercy  !  queen, "  cried  the  general ;  "  do  not  force  me  to 
do  something  terrible ;  do  not  make  me  guilty  of  a  crime  against 
your  sacred  royalty.    I  dare  not  return  to  my  king  without  theae 


THE  ARCHIVES  AT  DRESDEN.         167 

papers.  I  therefore  implore  your  majesty  humbly,  upon  my  knees, 
to  deliver  this  key  to  me. " 

He  fell  upon  his  knees  before  the  queen,  hunably  supplicating  her 
to  repent  her  decision. 

"  I  will  not  give  it  to  you, "  said  she,  with  a  triumphant  smile. 
"  I  do  not  move  from  this  door ;  it  shall  not  be  opened. " 

General  Wylich  rose  from  his  lowly  position.  He  was  pale,  but 
there  was  a  resolute  expression  upon  his  countenance.  Looking 
upon  it,  you  could  not  but  see  that  he  was  about  to  do  something 
extremely  painful  to  his  feelings. 

"Queen  of  Poland,"  said  he,  in  a  loud,  firm  voice,  "I  am  com- 
manded by  my  king  to  bring  to  him  the  state  archives.  Below,  at 
the  castle  gate,  wagons  are  in  attendance  to  receive  them ;  they  are 
accompanied  by  a  detachment  of  Prussian  soldiera.  I  have  only  to 
open  that  window,  sign  to  them,  and  they  are  here.  In  the  ante- 
chamber are  the  four  officers  who  came  with  me  ;  by  opening  the 
door,  they  will  be  at  my  side. " 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this?"  said  the  queen,  in  a  faltering 
voice,  moving  slightly  from  the  door. 

"  I  mean,  that  at  any  price,  I  must  enter  that  room.  If  the  key 
is  not  given  to  me,  I  will  call  upon  my  soldiers  to  break  down  the 
door ;  as  they  have  learned  to  tear  down  the  walls  of  a  fortress,  it 
will  be  an  easy  task  ;  that  if  the  Queen  of  Poland  does  not  value  her 
high  position  sufficiently  to  guard  herself  against  any  attack,  I  will 
be  compelled  to  lay  hands  upon  a  royal  princess,  and  lead  her  by 
force  from  that  door,  which  my  soldiers  must  open !  But,  once 
more,  I  bend  my  knee,  and  implore  your  majesty  to  preserve  me 
from  this  crime,  and  to  have  mercy  on  me. " 

And  again  he  fell  upon  his  knees  supplicating  for  pity. 

"Be  merciful !  be  merciful !"  cried  the  queen's  confessor  and  the 
Countess  Ogliva,  who  both  knew  that  General  Wylich  would  do  all 
that  he  had  said,  and  had  both  fallen  on  their  knees,  adding  their 
entreaties  to  his.  "  Your  majesty  has  done  all  that  human  power 
can  do.  It  is  now  time  to  guard  your  holy  form  from  insult.  Have 
mercy  on  your  threatened  royaltj'. " 

"  No,  no  I"  murmured  the  queen,  "  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  Death 
would  be  sweet  in  comparison  to  this  humiliating  defeat." 

The  queen's  confessor.  Father  Guarini,  now  rose  from  his  knees, 
and,  approaching  the  queen,  he  said,  in  a  solemn,  commanding 
voice : 

"  My  daughter,  by  virtue  of  my  profession,  as  a  servant  of  the 
holy  mother  church,  to  whom  is  due  obedience  and  trust,  I  com- 
mand you  to  deliver  up  to  this  man  the  key  of  this  door." 

The  queen's  head  fell  upon  her  breast,  and  hollow,  convvdsive 


168       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

groans  escaped  her.  Then,  with  a  hasty  movement,  bhe  severed  the 
key  from  her  chain. 

"  I  obey  you,  my  father, "  said  she.  "  There  is  the  key,  general ; 
this  room  can  now  be  entered." 

General  Wylich  took  the  key,  kissing  reverentially  the  hand  that 
gave  it  to  him.     He  then  said  to  her,  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion  : 

"I  have  but  this  last  favor  to  ask  of  your  majesty,  that  you  will 
now  leave  this  room,  so  that  my  soldiers  may  enter  it. " 

Without  answering,  the  queen,  accompanied  by  her  confessor 
and  maid  of  honor,  left  the  apartment. 

"  And  now, "  said  the  queen  to  Countess  Ogliva,  as  she  entered 
her  reception-room,  "send  messengers  at  once  to  all  the  foreign 
ambassadors,  and  tell  them  I  command  their  presence. " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SAXONY    HUMILIATED. 

A  HALF  an  hour  later  the  ambassadors  of  France,  Austria,  Hol- 
land, Russia,  and  Sweden,  were  assembeled  in  the  queen's  reception- 
room.  The  queen  was  there,  pale,  and  trembling  with  anger.  With 
the  proud  pathos  of  misfortune,  and  humiliated  royalty,  she  apprised 
them  of  the  repeated  insults  she  had  endured,  and  commanded  them 
to  write  at  once  to  their  different  courts,  imploring  their  rulers  to 
send  aid  to  her  sorely  threatened  kingdom. 

"  And  if  these  princes, "  said  she,  impetuously,  help  us  to  battle 
against  this  usurper,  in  defending  us  they  will  be  defending  their 
own  rights  and  honor.  For  my  cause  is  now  tlie  cause  of  all  kings ; 
for  if  my  crown  falls,  the  foundation  of  their  thrones  will  also  give 
way.  For  this  little  Margrave  of  Brandenburg,  who  calls  himself 
King  of  Pi'ussia,  will  annihilate  us  all  if  we  do  not  ruin  him  in  ad- 
vance. I,  for  my  part,  swear  him  a  perpetual  resistance,  a  perpetual 
enmity  !  I  will  perish  willingly  in  this  fight  if  only  my  insults  are 
revenged  and  mj''  honor  remains  untarnished.  Hasten,  therefore, 
to  acquaint  your  courts  with  all  that  has  occurred  here. " 

"  I  will  be  the  first  to  obey  your  majesty, "  said  the  French  am- 
bassador, Count  Broglio,  approaching  the  queen.  "I  will  repeat 
your  words  to  my  exalted  master  ;  I  will  portray  to  your  majesty's 
lovely  daughter,  the  Dauphine  of  France,  the  sufferings  her  royal 
mother  has  endured,  and  I  know  she  will  strain  every  nerve  to  send 
you  aid.  With  your  gracious  permission,  I  will  now  take  my  leave, 
for  to-day  I  start  for  Paris." 


SAXONY  HUMILIATED.  169 

•*  To  Paris !"  cried  the  queen  ;  "  would  you  leave  my  court  in  the 
hour  of  misfortune?" 

"  I  would  be  the  last  to  do  this,  unless  forced  by  necessity, "  said 
the  count ;  "  but  the  King  of  Prussia  has  just  dismissed  me,  and  sent 
me  my  passport !" 

"  Your  passport !  dismissed  you !"  repeated  the  queen.  "  Have  1 
heard  aright?  Do  you  speak  of  the  King  of  Prussia?  Has  he  then 
made  himself  King  of  Saxony?" 

Before  any  one  had  time  to  answer  the  queen's  painful  questions, 
the  door  was  opened,  and  the  king's  ministers  entered  ;  beside  them 
was  to  be  seen  the  pale,  terrified  countenance  of  Ck)unt  Leuke,  the 
king's  chamberlain. 

Slowly  and  silently  these  gentlemen  passed  through  the  room  and 
approached  tlie  queen. 

"We  have  come,"  said  Count  Hoymb,  bowing  lowly,  "to  take 
leave  of  your  majesty. " 

The  queen  fell  slightly  back,  and  gazed  in  terror  at  the  four  min- 
isters standing  before  her  with  bowed  heads. 

"Has  the  king,  my  husband,  sent  for  you?  Are  you  come  to 
take  leave  of  me  before  starting  to  Konigstein?" 

"  No,  your  majesty ;  we  come  because  we  have  been  dismissed 
from  our  offices  by  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

The  queen  did  not  answer,  but  gazed  wildly  at  the  sad  counte- 
nances about  her ;  and  now  she  fixed  a  searching  glance  upon  the 
royal  chamberlain. 

"  Well,  and  you  ?"  said  she.  "  Have  you  a  message  for  me  from 
my  husband?    Are  you  from  KOnigsteiti?" 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  I  come  from  KSnigstein.  But  I  am  not  a 
bearer  of  pleasant  news.  I  am  sent  to  Dresden  by  tlie  King  of 
Poland  to  request  of  the  King  of  Prussia  passports  for  himself  and 
Count  Brtihl.  The  king  wishes  to  visit  Warsaw,  and  is  therefore 
desirous  of  obtaining  these  passports. " 

"Ah!"  said  the  queen,  sighing,  "to  think  that  my  husband  re- 
quires permission  to  travel  in  his  own  kingdom,  and  that  he  must 
receive  it  from  our  enemy  !  Well,  have  you  obeyed  the  king's  com- 
mand. Count  Leuke?  Have  you  been  to  the  King  of  Prvissia  and 
received  the  passports?" 

"  I  was  with  the  King  of  Prussia, "  said  the  count,  in  a  faltering 
voice. 

"Well,  what  more?" 

"  He  refused  me !    He  does  not  give  his  consent  to  this  visit. " 

"  Listen,  listen !"  said  the  queen,  wildly  ;  "  hear  the  fresh  insult 
thrown  at  our  crown  !  Can  God  hear  this  and  not  send  His  light- 
ning to  destroy  this  heretical  tyrant?  Ah,  I  will  raise  my  voice ;  it 
13 


lyO       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

shall  be  a  cry  of  woe  and  lamentation,  and  shall  resound  throughout 
all  Europe  ;  it  shall  i-each  everj'  throne,  and  every  one  shall  hear  my 
voice  calling  out :  '  Woe  !  woe  !  woe  to  us  all ;  our  thrones  are  tot« 
tering,  they  will  surely  fall  if  we  do  not  ruin  this  evil-doer  who 
threatens  us  all !'  " 

With  a  fearful  groan,  the  queen  fell  fainting  into  the  arms  of 
Countess  Ogliva.  But  the  soitows  and  humiliations  of  this  day 
were  not  the  only  ones  experienced  by  Maria  Josephine  from  her 
victorious  enemy. 

It  is  true  her  cry  for  help  resounded  throughout  Europe.  Prepa- 
rations for  war  were  made  in  many  places,  but  her  allies  were  not 
able  to  prevent  the  fearful  blow  that  was  to  be  the  ruin  of  Saxony. 
Though  the  Dauphine  of  France,  daughter  of  the  wretched  IMaria 
Josephine,  and  the  mother  of  the  unfortunate  King  of  France,  Louis 
XVI. ,  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  Louis  XV. ,  imploring  for  help 
for  her  mother's  tottering  kingdom,  the  French  troops  came  too  late 
to  prevent  this  disaster.  Even  though  Maria  Theresa,  Empress  of 
Austria,  and  niece  to  the  Queen  of  Saxony,  as  her  army  were  in 
want  of  horses,  gave  up  all  her  own  to  carry  the  cannon.  The  Aus- 
trian cannon  was  of  as  little  help  to  Saxony  as  the  French  troops. 

Starvation  was  a  more  powerful  ally  to  Prussia  than  Austria, 
France,  Russia,  and  Sweden  were  to  Saxony,  for  in  the  Saxon  camp 
also  a  cry  of  woe  resounded. 

It  was  hunger  tliat  compelled  the  brave  Saxon  General  Rutrosky 
to  capitulate.  It  was  the  same  cause  that  forced  the  King  of  Saxony 
to  bind  himself  to  the  fearful  stipulations  which  the  victorious 
King  of  Prussia,  after  having  tried  in  vain  for  many  years  to  gain 
an  ally  in  Saxony,  made. 

In  the  valley  of  Lilienstein  the  first  of  that  great  drama,  whose 
scenes  are  engraved  in  blood  in  the  book  of  history,  was  performed, 
and  for  whose  further  developments  many  sad,  long  years  were 
necessary. 

In  the  valley  of  Lilienstein  the  Saxon  army,  compelled  to  it  by 
actual  starvation,  gave  up  their  arms  ;  and  as  these  true,  brave  sol- 
diers, weeping  over  their  humiliation,  with  one  hand  laid  down 
their  weapons,  the  other  was  extended  toward  their  enemies  for 
bread. 

liamentation  and  despair  reigned  in  the  camp  at  Lilienstein,  and 
there,  at  a  window  of  the  catstle  of  Konigstein,  stood  the  Prince- 
Elector  of  Saxony,  with  his  favorite  Count  BrUhl,  witnesses  to  their 
misery. 

After  these  fearful  humiliations,  by  which  Frederick  punished 
the  Saxons  for  their  many  intrigues,  by  which  he  revenged  himself 
for  their    obstinate  enmity,  their  proud  superiority— after  these 


SAXONY  HUMILIATED.  171 

humiliations,  after  their  complete  defeat,  the  King  of  Prussia  was 
no  longer  opposed  to  the  King  of  Saxony's  journey.  He  sent  him 
the  desired  passports  ;  he  even  extended  their  number,  and  not  only 
sent  one  to  the  king  and  to  Count  Bruhl,  but  also  to  the  Countess 
Briihl,  with  the  express  command  to  accompany  her  husband.  He 
also  sent  a  pass  to  Countess  Ogliva,  compelling  this  bigoted  woman 
to  leave  her  mistress. 

And  when  the  queen  again  raised  her  cry  of  woe,  to  call  her  allies 
to  her  aid,  the  King  of  Prussia  answered  her  with  the  victorious 
thimder  of  the  battle  of  Losovitz,  the  first  battle  fought  in  this  war, 
and  in  which  the  Prussians,  led  by  their  king,  performed  wonders 
of  bravery,  and  defeated  for  the  third  time  the  ti'emendous  Austrian 
army,  under  the  command  of  General  Brown. 

**  Never, "  says  Frederick,  "  since  I  have  had  the  honor  to  com- 
mand the  Prussian  troops,  have  they  performed  such  deeds  of  daring 
as  to-day. " 

The  Austrians,  in  viewing  these  deeds,  cried  out : 

"We  have  found  again  the  old  Prussians !" 

And  still  they  fought  so  bravely,  that  the  Prussians  remarked  in 
amazement : 

"  These  cannot  be  the  same  Austrians !" 

This  was  the  first  act  of  that  great  drama  enacted  by  the  Euro- 
pean nations,  and  of  which  King  Frederick  II.  was  the  hero. 


BOOK   III. 

CHAPTER  I. 
THE  MAIDEN  OF  BRUNBN. 

The  sun  was  just  setting,  throwing  its  crimson  glow  upon  the 
waters  of  the  Rhine,  which  appeared  to  flow  like  a  river  of  blood 
between  the  green  meadows  on  either  side  of  it. 

From  the  little  village  of  Briinen,  whose  red  chimneys  were  visi- 
ble above  a  group  of  oak  and  beech  trees,  the  sound  of  the  evening 
bell  was  heard,  reminding  the  pious  peasants,  engaged  in  cutting 
and  garnering  their  golden  com,  of  the  hour  for  devotion. 

With  the  sweet  sounds  of  the  bell  mingled  the  joyous  moimtain 
yodel  of  the  cowherd,  who  had  just  descended  the  little  hill  yonder, 
with  his  herd  straying  here  and  there,  in  picturesque  confusion. 
Upon  the  green  meadow  in  the  foreground,  the  flocks  of  the  village 
were  pasturing,  strictly  guarded  by  a  large  white  dog,  whose  stem, 
martial  glance  not  the  slightest  movement  among  his  army  contrary 
to  discipline,  escaped.  As  soon  as  one  of  the  sheep  committed  to 
his  care  left  the  fold  and  approached  the  field  where  the  reapers 
were  mowing  the  com,  which  was  boiuid  at  once  in  sheaves  by  busy 
maidens,  the  stem  Phylax  barking,  growling,  and  snarling,  rushed 
after  the  audacious  wanderer  who  sought  to  appease  the  anger  of  his 
inexorable  overseer  by  a  speedy  return. 

The  old  shepherd,  sitting  not  far  off  upon  a  little  wooden  stool, 
with  his  long,  silver  hair  falling  about  him,  was  engaged  in  weav- 
ing a  graceful  basket  of  some  meadow  roots ;  at  every  bark  of  his 
Phylax  he  looked  up  and  smiled  his  approval  at  his  faithful  steward  ; 
occasionally  he  gazed  across  the  meadow  at  the  reapers  and  busy 
maidens,  then  there  came  upon  his  venerable  old  countenance  an 
expression  of  great  interest.  And  well  he  might  be  pleased  with 
what  he  saw  there ;  for  that  tall,  sturdy  youth,  standing  in  the 
wagon,  waiting  with  outstretched  arms  to  catch  the  sheaves  which 
are  skilfully  thrown  him  ;  that  youth  with  the  bright  rosy  face,  the 
sparkling  eye,  the  full  red  lip,  upon  which  there  is  always  a  merry 
eniile,  the  ivory  white  teeth— that  youth  is  his  beloved  son,  Charles 


THE  MAIDEN  OF  BRUNEN.  173 

Henry.  And  yonder  maiden,  not  far  from  the  wagon,  binding  up 
the  com,  in  whose  tall,  proud  form,  in  spite  of  her  plain  peasant- 
gown,  there  is  something  imposing ;  that  maiden  with  the  youth- 
ful, blooming,  lovely  face,  is  his  son's  betrothed ;  whom  all  in  the 
village  called  the  beautiful  Anna  Sophia,  and  for  whose  love  Charles 
Henry  was  envied  by  all  the  village  boys.  It  is  true  she  was  a  pen- 
niless orphan,  but  in  her  busy,  industrious  hands  there  was  a  better 
and  surer  treasure  than  in  a  purse  of  gold,  and  her  ability  and  good- 
ness would  be  a  much  better  dowry  to  her  husband  ;  for  Anna  Sophia 
Detzloff  could  do  almost  every  thing,  and  the  villagers  knew  not 
whether  to  respect  her  more  for  her  great  knowledge,  or  love  her 
more  for  her  kind,  good  heart.  Anna  could  read  and  write  like  a 
school-teacher.  She  wrote  every  letter  which  the  women  of  the 
village  sent  to  their  sons  and  husbands,  now  far  away  with  the 
King  of  Prussia's  army,  and  read  to  them  the  answers ;  and  in  so 
beautiful  and  winning  a  manner  did  she  read  them,  that  to  the 
happy  women  it  almost  seemed  as  if  they  were  hearing  the  voices 
of  their  loved  ones.  But,  notwithstanding  her  learning,  she  was 
well  versed  in  every  sort  of  work  that  beseemed  a  woman.  None 
in  the  village  could  prepare  more  delightful  dishes  than  she ;  no  one 
could  equal  her  beautiful,  rapid  sewing  and  knitting.  Anna  Sophia 
learned  all  these  things  from  her  mother,  who  had  lived  and  worked 
for  many  long  years  in  Brunen.  Her  father  had  been  the  village 
school-teacher,  and  it  was  owing  to  his  diligence  and  activity  that 
the  women  could  now  receive  letters  from  their  sons  and  husbands. 
He  had  taught  the  boys  to  read  and  write  ;  and  though  the  girls  did 
not  learn,  the  example  of  his  daughter  showed  that  it  was  not  owing 
to  inability,  but  for  a  want  of  time  and  desire.  Fi-om  her  mother, 
Anna  had  learned  all  her  womanly  duties.  She  had  taught  her  to 
be  amiable,  ready  with  help  for  all,  kind  and  sympathetic,  and  to 
strive  by  her  good  deeds  to  gain  the  love  of  her  fellow-creatures. 

A  joyous  family  had  lived  in  the  little  village  school-house ; 
though  they  had  poverty  and  want  to  fight  against,  these  three  haj^py 
human  beings  did  not  consider  this  a  misfortune,  but  a  necessary 
evil  of  life.  They  loved  each  other,  and  when  the  parents  looked 
upon  the  lovely,  rosy  countenance  of  their  only  child,  they  did  not 
perceive  that  their  bread  was  hard  and  heavy,  they  did  not  miss  the 
butter  and  cheese  without  which  the  rich  villagers  seldom  took  a 
meal.  And  when,  on  Sundays,  Anna  went  with  her  parents  to 
church,  in  the  faded  red  skirt,  neat  white  body,  and  black  bodice, 
which  had  been  her  mother's  wedding-dress,  she  heard  the  boys 
whisper  amongst  themselves  about  her  beauty  and  sweetness,  and 
casting  her  eyes  down  with  timid  blushes  she  did  not  perceive  the 
jeering  smiles  of  the  other  girls  who,  though  not  as  pretty,  were 


174        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

proud  that  they  were  richer  and  better  dressed  than  the  school- 
teacher's daughter. 

But  Death,  in  his  inexorable  manner,  had  disturbed  this  modest 
happiness.  In  a  year  he  took  the  schoolmaster  Detzloff  and  his 
wife  from  the  little  house  which,  to  any  one  else,  would  have  ap- 
peared a  pitiful  hut,  but  which,  to  them,  seemed  a  paradise.  In 
one  year  Anna  became  an  orphan ;  she  was  entirely  alone  in  the 
world,  and,  after  she  had  given  to  her  dear  departed  ones  the  tribute 
of  her  soiTows  and  tears,  she  had  to  arouse  herself  and  create  a  new 
future.  After  death  only,  the  villagei-s  became  aware  of  the  great 
worth  of  the  departed,  they  now  admitted  to  the  full  the  school- 
teacher's merits,  and  were  anxious  to  pay  to  the  daughter  the  debt 
owing  to  the  father.  Ashe  had  died  partly  from  starvation,  sorrow, 
and  work,  they  wished  to  prove  themselves  generous  to  his  daughter, 
and  presei-ve  her  from  the  want  and  misery  which  had  caused  the 
death  of  her  parents. 

But  Anna  Sophia  would  be  dependent  on  no  one.  To  those  who 
came  in  the  name  of  the  villagers  to  notify  her  that  she  would  re- 
ceive from  them  a  monthly  allowance,  she  showed  her  able  hands, 
her  brown,  muscular  arms,  and,  I'aising  her  sparkling  eyes  proudly 
to  the  new  school-teacher,  she  said  : 

"  From  these  alone  will  I  receive  help  ;  they  shall  give  me  food 
and  clothing ;  on  them  alone  will  I  be  dependent. "  She  then  went 
to  seek  work.  The  rich  burgher  of  the  village  would  gladly  have 
taken  so  smart  and  industrious  a  girl  into  his  house  and  paid  her 
handsomely  for  her  services.  But  Anna  Sophia  declared  proudly 
that,  though  she  was  willing  to  work,  she  would  be  no  slave  ;  that 
she  would  sell  her  hands,  but  not  her  freedom. 

Anotlier  house  had  been  built  and  furnished  for  the  school- 
teacher, because  there  was  danger  of  the  old  one,  in  which  the 
Detzloff  family  had  lived,  falling  to  pieces. 

Anna  Sophia,  by  the  sale  of  some  of  the  furniture,  had  bought 
the  old,  dilapidated  hut  for  herself.  And  there,  in  her  hours  of 
leisure,  she  lived  over  the  happy  past.  There  she  felt  that  she  was 
still  with  her  parents,  and  not  alone  and  orphaned.  In  the  morn- 
ing, before  leaving  her  home  to  go  at  her  daily  work,  she  entered 
the  little  garden  at  the  back  of  the  hut,  where  in  the  arbor,  laden 
with  dark -red  blossoms,  were  the  three  chaii-s  her  father  had  woven 
in  his  idle  moments,  and  the  roughly-hewn  deal  table  made  by  his 
axe.  She  tot)k  her  seat  for  a  moment  upon  the  chair  standing  in 
the  centre,  and  laid  one  hand  upon  the  one  to  either  side  of  her. 
Thus  she  had  sat  in  the  past,  with  her  hands  clasped  in  those  of  her 
parents.  The  Rhine  flowed  on  as  melodiously  as  before  in  the  dim 
distance,  the  trees  were  as  green,  the  flowers  and  blossoms  as  sweet, 


THE  MAIDEN  OF  BRUNEN.  175 

the  Bky  as  blue.  There  was  no  change ;  all  around  her  was  as  in 
fonner  days,  except  these  empty  chairs.  But  Anna  had  only  to  close 
her  eyes  to  see  the  beloved  forms  of  her  departed  parents,  to  feel  tlie 
pressure  of  their  hands,  and  to  hear  them  addreasing  her,  in  tones 
which  love  alone  could  have  uttered,  love  alone  understood.  Then 
saying  aloud,  "Good -morning,  mother!  Good-morning,  father  I" 
she  rose,  with  closed  eyes,  from  her  seat,  and  hastened  from  the 
arbor  with  the  pleasant  thought  that  she  was  followed  by  the  loving 
gaze  of  her  parents.  She  did  not  turn  once,  for  then  she  would 
have  seen  that  the  arbor  was  empty,  and  she  wished  to  preserve  the 
sweet  delusion  to  be  the  brighter  and  happier  at  her  day's  work. 
When,  during  the  day,  she  saw  the  burgher's  wife  surrounded  by 
her  blooming  daughtei's,  she  would  say  to  herself :  "  I  also  have 
a  father  and  mother  at  home,  and  they  await  me !"  Tlien,  when 
her  day's  work  was  finished,  she  hastened  with  a  flying  step  to  her 
home,  whose  solemn  stillness  resounded  for  her  with  the  dear- 
loved  voices  of  the  past.  Opening  the  bedroom  of  her  parents, 
she  cried:  "Good-night,  mother!  Good-night,  father!"  Then  she 
climbed  up  to  her  little  attic,  which  had  been  her  fatlier's  favorite 
room,  and  which,  when  she  was  with  him,  he  had  called  a  little 
spot  of  Eden.  There  stood  his  writing-table,  and  above  it  the  book- 
case, which  held  her  most  precious  treasures,  her  father's  library. 
From  the  window  the  Rhine  could  be  seen  meandering  along  the 
smooth  green  meadows,  finally  loosing  itself  between  the  distant 
hills. 

Her  father  had  left  her  this  blessed  little  spot,  and  hither  she  fled 
when  her  heavy  day's  work  was  over.  There  of  an  evening  she 
stood,  gazing  thoughtfully  out  into  the  darkening  twilight,  and 
there  daily  she  greeted  the  rising  sun,  repeating  aloud  her  morning 
prayer.  Then  with  eager  hands  she  took  from  the  book-case  one  of 
the  large  folios.  From  these  books  Anna  Sophia  drew  all  her  knowl- 
edge. And  when,  during  the  long  winter  evenings,  the  village  girls 
were  busy  spinning,  she  would  tell  them  the  stories  she  had  read, 
no  hand  was  idle,  no  eye  drooping.  She  was  looked  upon  as  the 
guardian  angel  of  the  village  ;  she  knew  some  remedy,  some  allevia- 
tion for  every  illness,  every  pain.  lu  a  sick-room,  she  was  all  that 
a  nurse  should  be,  kind,  loving,  patient,  and  gentle.  She  was  be- 
loved by  all,  and  all  the  village  boys  sought  to  gain  her  hand.  For 
a  long  time  she  would  listen  to  none  of  them,  and  flew  in  terror 
from  those  who  broached  the  subject. 

How  the  youngest  son  of  the  old  shepherd  Buschman  had  finally 
won  her  heart,  she  did  not  herself  know.  It  is  true,  he  was  the 
handsomest,  best-made  boy  in  the  village,  but  it  was  not  for  this 
tjiat  she  loved  him ;  iox  she  h^d  koowp  hUn  long  ago,  anc(  hat^  beeu 


176       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

perfectly  indifferent  to  him,  until  within  the  last  few  weeks.  Why 
was  it?  Because  he  loved  her  so  dearly,  and  had  told  her  he  would 
die  if  she  did  not  listen  to  him.  Many  others  had  done  and  said 
the  same  thing,  but  it  had  never  moved  her  sensibilities,  nor  had 
their  threats  terrified  her.  What,  then,  had  won  her  cold,  proud 
heart? 

The  old  shepherd  had  been  the  occasion  of  their  frequently  meet- 
ing each  other.  For  some  weeks  she  had  been  in  the  liabit,  when 
her  day's  work  was  over,  of  reading  to  him  the  daily  paper,  which 
the  good-hearted  burgher  always  sent  to  the  old  man,  who  had  six 
sons  in  the  king's  army ;  he  had  given  his  country  six  soldiers. 
Keeling  by  his  side  upon  the  meadow,  Anna  Sophia  would  first  read 
to  him,  and  then  talk  over  the  events  of  the  war,  and  prophesy  many 
a  glorious  victory.  And  then,  Charles  Henry,  who  worked  on  the 
same  farm  with  Anna,  joined  them,  speaking  enthusiastically  of 
the  great,  heroic  king.  In  their  inspired  love  for  their  great  sover- 
eign, their  hearts  had  first  met ;  he  seemed  to  her  a  hero,  because  he 
had  six  brothers  in  Frederick's  army;  she  saw  laurels  upon  his 
brow,  won  by  his  brothers  upon  the  battle-field.  She  loved  him  for 
his  brothers'  sake,  and  she  was  proud  of  being  the  bride  of  him  of 
whom  it  was  said,  when  he  passed:  "It  is  the  old  man's  dearest 
child — God  preserve  him  to  his  father,  whose  only  prop  he  is  I"  Tlie 
old  shepherd  was  thinking  of  all  this,  as  he  sat  in  the  midst  of  his 
flock  upon  the  green  meadow,  gazing  toward  the  corn-field  in  which 
Anna  Sophia  and  his  son  were  at  work. 

"  God  be  praised !"  murmured  the  old  man ;  "  that  is  the  last 
sheaf  ;  Anna  will  soon  be  with  me. " 

At  last,  the  happy  moment  had  come.  The  old  shepherd  folded 
his  hands,  and  a  silent  prayer  arose  from  his  heart  for  his  absent 
sons.  He  then  rose  from  his  lowly  seat,  and  whistled  to  his  faithful 
Phylax  to  follow.  The  flock  arrived  at  the  village,  and  were  driven 
by  the  dog  into  the  sheep-pen,  from  which  was  heard  the  tremulous 
bleating  of  the  lambs,  who  were  rejoicing  over  their  dams'  arrival. 
Father  Buschman  waited  impatiently  until  the  last  sheep  had 
entered,  and  then  hastened  toward  the  large  farm-house  to  the  left 
of  the  pen. 

Anna  Sophia  was  just  leaving  the  house,  paper  in  hand,  and  ad- 
vanced, with  a  cheerful  smile,  to  meet  him. 

"Father,"  said  she,  "I  have  the  paper,  and  we  are  the  first  to 
read  it.  Tlie  good  burgher  and  his  wife  are  in  the  country,  and  the 
overseer  allowed  me  to  take  it.  But,  hear,  father,  he  says  he  glanced 
over  it  hastily,  and  saw  something  about  a  Prussian  victory. " 

The  old  shepherd's  face  epai'kled  with  joy,  and  he  sought  to  dvaw 

Aum  ^w{iy  witi)  himi 


NEWS  OF  BATTLE.  177 

"Come,  come,  my  child,"  said  he,  "to  my  house,  where  it  is  still 
and  quiet ;  there  we  will  read  of  our  king's  victories. " 

But  Anna  shook  her  beautiful  head. 

"  No,  father, "  said  she,  "  it  would  not  be  right  to  read  the  paper 
alone  to-day.  The  king's  victories  belong  to  his  people — to  each  one 
of  his  subjects ;  and  every  heart  will  beat  more  proudly  when  it 
hears  of  them,  and  thank  God  that  He  has  blessed  the  weapons  of 
their  king.  It  is  not  for  us  to  keep  this  joy  from  our  men  and 
women.  Charles  Henry,  with  the  overseer's  permission,  had  already 
assembled  the  villagere  upon  the  open  space  under  the  beech-trees. 
See !  all  are  hastening  with  their  work.  Come,  father,  we  must 
read  to  our  neighbors  and  friends  our  king's  victories.  A  victory 
belongs  to  the  whole  village,  but  should  there  ever  be  news  of  a  lost 
battle,  then,  father,  we  will  read  it  to  ourselves. " 

"  God  forbid  that  this  should  come  to  pass !"  said  the  old  man, 
following  Anna  to  the  place  of  general  meeting. 


CHAPTER  II. 

NEWS    OF    BATTLE. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  village  had  already  cusembled  on  the 
square,  imder  the  great  linden ;  and  as  old  Buschman  now  ap- 
proached, supported  by  Anna  Sophia's  arm,  they  were  joyfully 
greeted. 

Anna  waved  the  paper  like  a  white  flag  in  the  air,  ar.d,  hasten- 
ing the  old  man  forward  impatiently,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Our  king  has  won  a  battle  !" 

Shouts  of  triumph  were  the  result. 

"Did  he  whip  the  French,  or  the  Austrians?"  asked  one  of  the 
peasants,  as  he  drew  close  to  Anna,  and  tried  to  seize  the  paper. 

Anna  drew  it  back  hastily. 

"  The  steward  sent  it  to  me,  to  read  to  the  community,  and  I  shall 
do  so." 

"Tell  us,  Anna,"  said  another,  "has  he  beaten  the  Russians  or 
the  cunning  Saxons  ?    I  wish  he  could  trample  them  all  under  foot. " 

"He  will,  if  he  has  not  yet  done  so,"  cried  old  Buschman. 
"  Children,  our  king  will  conquer  all  his  enemies  ;  he  is  a  hero,  and 
has  only  brave  fellows  to  fight  for  him.  Just  think  of  the  thirty 
noble  boys  that  our  village  alone  gave  him  !" 

"  Read,  Anna,  read !"  cried  the  cm-ious  crowd.  And  Anna, 
ready  to  please  them,  walked  under  the  linden,  and  stepped  upoo 
the  wpodec  bench  that  surrounded  the  tree,      ' 


178        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Father  Buschman  placed  himself  at  her  feet,  and  several  old  men 
and  women  followed  his  example.  The  young  people  gathered 
around  in  groups,  and  gazed  respectfully  at  the  youthful  girl,  whose 
bright,  beautiful  face  glowed  as  if  lighted  by  the  evening  sun.  The 
little  boys,  who  had  followed  their  parents  from  curiosity,  were 
amusing  themselves  in  turning  somersets. 

Anna  now  raised  her  voice  and  began  to  read  in  a  bright  tone. 
It  was  a  brilliant  and  inspiring  account  of  the  battle  of  Losovitz, 
and  Anna  read  it  in  breathless  haste  and  burning  cheeks.  As  she 
read  how  the  Prussians  were  at  first  defeat-ed  by  the  powerful  arnay 
of  the  Austrians  under  General  Brown,  whose  terrific  artillery  sent 
death  and  ruin  into  the  Prussian  ranks,  the  women  sobbed  softly, 
and  the  men  could  hardly  suppress  their  sighs.  Tliey  breathed  more 
freely  when  they  heard  that  the  king,  adopting  a  new  expedient, 
advanced  a  part  of  his  cavalry  into  the  centre  of  his  weakened  in- 
fantry, and  thus  turned  the  tide  of  battle.  Their  courage  failed  on 
hearing  that  this  advantage  was  soon  lost ;  the  enemy  still  advanced 
in  unbroken  columns,  and  almost  forced  the  Prussians  to  retreat. 
The  left  wing  of  infantry,  commanded  by  the  Duke  of  Bevern, 
which  had  fired  unceasingly,  had  exhausted  their  ammimition, 
while  the  Austrian  General  Wied,  who  defended  the  post  of  Loso- 
vitz,  kept  up  a  brisk  cannonading.  The  Prussian  warriors  pleaded 
loudly  for  powder  and  shot, 

Anna  stopped  reading ;  her  heart  beat  loudly ;  she  leaned  her 
head  against  the  tree  and  closed  her  eyes  in  terror.  The  old  people 
sitting  at  her  feet  prayed  and  wept  aloud,  and  from  the  crowd  there 
arose  sounds  of  grief  and  despair.  In  their  teiTor  they  had  forgotten 
that  it  was  of  a  victory  and  not  a  defeat  they  were  to  hear,  and  that 
the  battle  must  at  last  have  ended  to  their  advantage. 

"  Read  on,  A  nna, "  said  the  old  shepherd,  after  a  long  pause.  "  Are 
we  such  cowards  as  not  to  be  able  even  to  hear  an  account  of  this 
murderous  battle  in  which  our  sons  were  brave  enough  to  fight?" 

"Read  on,  read  on  !"  was  heard  here  and  there. 
■  Anna  unclosed  her  eyes  and  raised  the  paper.     Breathless  still- 
ness reigned  anew.     Anna  read : 

"  In  this  fearful  moment  the  Duke  of  Bevern  felt  that  a  decisive 
step  must  be  taken,  and  springing  in  front  of  his  troops  with  drawn 
sword,  he  cried :  'Boys,  you  have  no  more  ammunition  !  Do  not  be 
discouraged  1  Fight  with  your  bayonets  !'  These  words,  spoken  by 
a  brave  and  beloved  leader,  gave  heart  to  all.  They  closed  their 
ranks,  and  inspired  by  the  example  of  their  officer,  attacked  the 
enemy  boldly.  In  vain  Baron  Stahremberg  hastened  forward  with 
his  six  battalions — uselessly  Baron  Wied  tried  to  defend  the  hoase  of 
IxwQvJtz  iji  which  his  ^enadi^rs  had  takers  refuge.    Npthing  cowltl 


NEWS  OF  BATTLE.  11^ 

withstand  the  Prussians.  Like  a  raging  hurricane  they  fell  upon 
the  enemy,  who  were  forced  to  give  way  to  them.  A  part  of  the 
Austrian  force  sprang  into  the  Elbe,  and  tried  to  save  their  lives  by 
swimming.  Losovitz  was  fired,  and  all  its  defenders  fled.  The 
Prussians  had  gained  a  complete  victory. "  * 

Anna  Sophia  could  read  no  further.  The  delight  of  all  was  in- 
tense— wives  embraced  tJieir  husbands  with  tears  of  joy— old  men 
thanked  God  aloud — and  the  boys,  who  had  ceased  their  play  and 
been  listening  attentively,  made  bolder  and  higher  somersets  and 
shouted  more  lustily.  Anna  Sophia  alone  said  nothing.  Her  tall, 
slender,  but  full  form  was  leaning  against  the  tree — an  inspired 
smile  was  on  her  lip,  and  her  eyes,  raised  to  heaven,  beamed  with 
holy  fire.  She  stood  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  at  first  did  not  hear  old 
Buschman  ask  her  to  read  on.  When  he  repeated  his  request,  she 
was  startled,  and  turned  her  glance  slowly  down  from  heaven  upon 
the  joyful  crowd  that  surrounded  her. 

"What  do  you  wish,  father?"  she  asked. 

The  old  shepherd  arose,  and,  taking  his  cap  from  his  gray  head, 
said  solemnly,  "  You  have  read  us  of  the  victory,  Anna  Sophia ; 
now  read  us  of  those  who  gave  their  lives  for  it.  Tell  us  of  the 
dead." 

"  Yes,  read  us  a  list  of  the  dead !"  cried  the  others,  uncovering 
their  heads  respectfully. 

Anna  sought  for  the  list,  and  read  slowly  the  names  of  the  fallen. 
Their  faces  brightened  more  and  more ;  none  belonging  to  them 
were  dead.  Suddenly  Anna  paused,  and  uttered  a  low  cry ;  tlieu 
looked  at  Father  Buschman  with  a  tei'rified  expression.  Perhaps 
the  old  man  understood  her,  for  he  trembled  a  little,  and  his  liead 
fell  upon  his  breast ;  but  he  raised  it  proudly  again.  Looking  almost 
commandingly  at  Anna,  he  said  : 

"  Read  on,  my  daughter. " 

But  Anna  could  not  read.  The  paper  trembled  iu  her  hand,  and 
her  face  was  pale  as  death. 

"  Read  on, "  repeated  the  old  man — "  read  on  ;  I,  your  father, 
command  you  to  read  !" 

Anna  sighed  deeply.  "I  will  obey,"  she  said,  and  casting  a 
glance  of  inexpressible  sorroAv  at  the  old  man,  two  new  names  fell 
from  her  lips  and  tears  to  consecrate  them.  "Anton  Buschman, 
Fiederick  Buschman,"  and  then  taking  advantage  of  the  breathless 
stillness,  she  added  :  "The  two  brothers  were  the  first  to  attack  the 
enemy— they  died  the  death  of  heroes!"  She  ceased.  The  paper 
dropped  from  her  trembling  hands  and  fell  at  the  old  man's  feet. 

The  weeping  eyes  of  the  crowd  were  turned  upon  old  Buschman. 
•  "  Characteristics  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,"  vol.  i. ,  p.  63, 


180       FREDERICK  THE!  GREAT  AND  MlS  FAMILY. 

As  if  crushed  by  the  storm,  he  had  staggered  to  the  bench ;  lie 
bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast  that  no  one  might  see  the  expression 
of  his  face  ;  his  trembling  hands  clasped  on  his  knees,  made  a  touch- 
ing picture  of  silent  sorrow. 

His  son  Henry,  who  had  been  standing  with  the  others,  stepped 
softly  to  him,  and  kneeling  down,  put  his  arms  around  the  old  man's 
neck  and  spoke  to  him  tenderly. 

The  old  man  started  up  with  terror — his  glance  tvuned  from  his 
son  to  the  crowd,  and  met  everywhere  sympathizing  and  troubled 
faces.  "Well,"  he  asked,  in  a  hard,  rough  voice,  "why  do  you 
weep?  Did  you  not  hear  that  my  sons  died  the  death  of  heroes? 
Have  they  not  fallen  for  their  country  and  their  king?  It  would  be- 
come us  to  weep  if  they  were  cowards  and  fled  in  battle.  But  Anna 
Sophia  told  us  they  died  the  death  of  heroes.  Therefore,  let  us  think 
of  them  with  love  and  pride.  ^Blessed  are  the  dead,  for  they  see 
God!'" 

He  sank  upon  his  knees  and  murmured  low  prayers  for  the  repose 
of  the  dead,  and  now  he  wept  for  the  first  time.  At  his  side  knelt 
his  son  and  Anna  Sophia  ;  and  the  crowd,  overcome  by  emotion  and 
sympathy,  followed  their  example,  and  with  bended  knees  mur- 
mured the  pious  prayers  of  the  Cliurch  for  the  dead. 

The  solemn  stillness  was  broken  by  the  beating  of  drums  and  the 
tramping  of  horses.  A  company  of  infantry,  headed  by  tlie  drum- 
mer and  fifer,  marched  up  the  sti'eet  and  approached  the  villagers, 
who,  rising  from  their  knees,  gazed  anxiously  at  the  troops. 

"They  are  Prussians,"  said  the  mayor,  who  was  amongst  the 
crowd. 

"They  are  Prussians,"  repeated  the  crowd,  with  brightening 
faces. 

Headed  by  the  mayor,  they  went  forward  to  meet  and  conduct 
them  to  the  middle  of  the  square,  where  they  halted.  The  mayor 
then  approached  the  officer  and  asked  him  what  he  desired. 

The  officer,  after  making  the  drummer  a  sign,  who  beat  the  roll 
powerfully,  drew  out  a  roll  of  paper  and  unfolded  it.  The  villagers 
pushed  forward  and  waited  with  breathless  attention.  Close  to  the 
officer  stood  the  old  shepherd,  next  to  him  his  son  and  Anna  Sophia, 
who  was  staring,  pale  and  trembling,  at  the  officer,  who  now  began 
to  read. 

This  paper  commanded  the  unman-ied  men  of  the  village  to  place 
themselves  under  the  king's  flag,  and  to  take  their  places  in  the 
ranks  of  those  who  fought  for  their  country.  Harvest  was  at  an 
end,  and  the  king  could  now  demand  the  fighting  men  of  villages 
and  cities  to  join  him  and  share  with  him  his  dangers  and  his  vic- 
tories.   The  officer  then  commanded  the  mayor  to  give  him  early 


THE  CERTIFICATE  OF  ENLISTMENT.  181 

the  next  morning  a  list  of  the  unmaiTied  men  in  the  village,  that 
he  might  call  them  out  and  conduct  them  to  Cleve  for  further  orders. 

A  hollow  murmur  ran  through  the  crowd  when  the  officer  had 
finished.  The  joyful  and  inspired  emotion  they  had  just  felt  gave 
way  to  discontent  and  gloom.  All  had  been  ready  to  celebrate  the 
victory,  but  found  it  far  from  desirable  to  enter  the  ranks. 

The  old  shepherd  looked  angrily  at  the  despairing  crowd,  and  an 
expression  of  pious  peace  spread  over  his  venerable  countenance. 
Turning  to  the  officer,  he  said,  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  I  had  six  sons  in  the  army  ;  two  fell  in  the  battle  of  Losovitz, 
and  my  poor  old  heai't  still  weeps  for  the  dead  ;  but  it  is  also  con- 
tent that  the  king  calls  for  another  sacrifice.  I  have  one  other  son  ; 
he  is  unmarried,  has  no  one  to  take  care  of,  neither  wife  nor  child 
nor  his  old  father,  for,  thank  God,  I  still  have  strength  to  support 
myself.  Go,  then,  my  son  Charles  Henry,  the  king  calls  you  ;  and 
if  it  must  be  so,  lie  down  like  your  brothers  in  a  heroic  grave. " 

He  ceased  and  laid  his  hand,  as  if  with  a  blessing,  upon  his  son's 
head  ;  but  Henry  did  not  partake  of  his  father's  enthusiasm.  His 
face  was  pale  as  death,  and  his  powerful  frame  trembled  as  if  with 
fever. 

Anna  Sophia  saw  it ;  her  beaming  face  paled,  and  her  eye  sank 
down  with  shame. 

The  officer,  who  had  noticed  the  dejection  of  the  people,  wished 
to  give  them  time  to  recover. 

"  Leave  every  thing  alone  until  to-morrow, "  he  said.  "  To-mor- 
row, sir  mayor,  you  will  hand  me  the  list,  and  I  am  sure  that  the 
unman-ied  boys  will  obey  their  king's  call  with  joy.  Now,  sir 
mayor,  I  beg  you  to  conduct  me  to  the  court-house,  where  I  will  pass 
the  night,  and  see  that  my  soldiers  find  good  quarters  there,  and  in 
the  village. " 

He  nodded  kindly  to  the  people,  and  accompanied  by  the  mayor, 
moved  onward.  The  crowd  followed  them  silently,  and  the  gay 
village  boys  danced  gleefully  around  the  fine  procession. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  CERTIFICATE  OF  ENLISTMENT. 

Anna  Sophia  returned  to  her  solitary  home  in  deep  meditation, 
and  not  even  in  the  stillness  of  her  room  could  she  regain  her  accus- 
tomed serenity  and  cheerfulness.  Her  thoughts  were  far  away  ;  for 
the  first  time  her  room  appeared  to  her  gloomy  and  deserted.  The 
pieroories  of  the  past  did  not  now  speak  to  her,  and  when  she  threw 


182       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

herself  upon  her  bed,  it  was  without  baring  bid  her  parents  good- 
night. 

But  even  then  she  could  find  no  rest.  Strange  visions  were 
wafted  before  her  waking  eyes,  wonderful  dreams  took  hold  of  her 
senses.  She  saw  her  victorious  king  standing  before  her,  his  spark- 
ling eyes  beckoning  her  to  follow  him.  Then  she  saw  herself  in  the 
front  of  an  army,  the  fluttering  banner  in  her  hand,  the  glittering 
shield  on  her  breast,  followed  by  many  brave  warriors,  who  were 
all  gazing  proudly  upon  her.  And  again  she  saw  herself.  But  now 
she  was  all  alone — alone  by  the  side  of  an  open  grave,  with  a  gaping 
wound  in  her  breast,  raising  her  weary  eyes  upward  and  murmur- 
ing with  pale  lips:  "How  sweet  to  die  for  one's  country!"  Then 
the  brothers  of  her  betrothed  raised  themselves  slowly  from  among 
the  dead,  and  signed  to  her  to  follow  them.  She  seemed  to  hear 
them  saying :  "  Revenge  our  death,  our  brother  is  faint-hearted  !" 

At  this  thought,  she  raised  herself  upon  her  couch. 

"  He  is  a  coward, "  murmured  she ;  "  I  saw  him  turn  pale  and 
tremble,  and  I  felt  as  if  a  sword  had  entered  my  heart  and  destroyed 
all  my  love  for  him.  Yes,  he  is  a  coward,  and  instead  of  rejoicing 
at  the  thought  of  a  battle,  he  trembles. " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  to  hide  from  the  night 
the  burning  blush  of  shame  that  mounted  to  her  brow.  Thus  she 
sat  for  hours  motionless,  as  if  listening  to  the  voices  whispering  to 
her  from  within,  until  the  first  gleam  of  morning,  the  firet  ray  of 
sun  entered  the  open  window  to  arouse  her  from  her  waking 
dreams. 

She  sprang  from  her  bed,  and  dressed  herself  with  trembling 
eagerness.  The  sun  had  arisen,  and  Charles  Henry  was  no  doubt 
already  in  the  woods,  at  the  place  she  had  appointed  to  meet  him 
yesterday  morning.  When  bidding  him  good-by ,  she  had  whispered 
to  him  to  meet  her  there  in  the  morning  at  sunrise ;  she  did  not 
then  know  why  she  had  appointed  this  meeting.  She  well  knew  it 
was  not  the  longing  to  pass  an  undisturbed  hour  with  her  lover  that 
had  actuated  her.  Anna  had  no  such  wish  ;  her  heart  was  too  pure, 
her  love  too  cold.  She  had  only  felt  that  she  would  have  something 
to  say  to  him  ;  she  knew  not  what  herself. 

But  now  she  well  knew  what  she  had  to  say  ;  it  was  all  clear, 
and  therefore  she  was  happy  and  cheerful.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if 
her  soul  had  taken  flight,  and  as  if  there  was  a  lark  within  her  sing- 
ing songs  of  joy ;  and  with  these  feelings  she  hastened  down  the 
road  into  the  woods. 

At  the  appointed  place  stood  Charles  Henry,  and  as  his  betrothed 
approached  him,  so  proud,  so  smiling,  sparkling  with  beauty  and 
youth,  it  appeared  to  him  that  he  had  never  seen  her  so  exquisitely 


THE  CERTIFICATE  OF  ENLISTMENT.  183 

beautiful ;  to  her,  as  he  advanced  smilingly  to  meet  her,  he  had 
never  seemed  so  small,  so  devoid  of  attractions. 

When  they  met,  they  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement — there 
was  a  change  in  both. 

"Anna  Sophia, "said  Charles  Henry  at  last,  sadly,  "you  have 
something  against  me !" 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "I  have  something  against  you,  otherwise  I 
would  not  have  appointed  this  meeting  here,  where  we  can  be  heard 
by  no  one.  Were  this  that  I  have  to  tell  you  something  good,  some- 
thing pleasant,  all  the  world  might  stand  by  and  hear  it ;  but  as  it 
is  something  painful,  it  must  be  heard  by  you  alone. " 

She  seated  herself  silently  upon  the  gi-ound,  signing  to  Charles 
Henry  to  follow  her  example. 

"  It  was  here, "  said  Anna,  hastily,  "  that  you  first  told  m©  of  your 
love. " 

"  Yes,  it  was  here,  Anna, "  repeated  he,  "  and  you  then  told  me 
that  my  love  was  returned,  and  that  you  would  be  my  wife  when 
we  had  saved  enough  to  commence  housekeeping.  But  still  I  have 
always  felt  that  you  were  not  kind  to  me,  not  as  the  other  girls  in 
the  village  are  to  their  lovers.  You  have  never  permitted  me  to 
come  under  your  window  at  night ;  I  have  never  been  allowed  to 
take  you  in  my  arms  and  kiss  you  tenderly,  as  the  others  boys  do 
their  sweethearts ;  and  never,  no  never,  have  you  given  me  a  kiss 
unasked ;  and,  after  all  my  entreaties,  you  kissed  me  only  in  the 
presence  of  my  old  father  and  his  dog." 

"  It  is  not  in  my  nature  to  be  very  tender, "  said  Anna,  shrugging 
X her  shoulders.  "I  read  in  one  of  my  books  lately  a  fairy  tale,  in 
which  there  was  a  young  girl,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  a  bad  fairy 
had  bound  her  heart  in  iron,  to  prevent  its  full  play  ;  the  girl  was 
constantly  bewailing  this  fatality,  saying,  'I  can  only  like,  but 
never  love. '  Perhaps  it  is  thus  with  me,  but  I  do  not  weep  over  it, 
like  the  foolish  girl  in  the  book." 

"And  was  this  what  you  had  to  tell  me?"  asked  Charles  Henry, 
mockingly. 

She  gave  him  a  look  that  sent  the  jeering  smile  from  his  lip. 

"  No,  Charles  Henry, "  said  she,  "  this  is  not  what  I  have  to  tell 
you. " 

"Well,  what  is  it  then,  Anna,  for  this  wounds  me?"  said  he, 
impatiently. 

"Perhaps  the  other  will  do  so  also,"  said  she,  sadly.  "But  it 
must  come  out,  I  cannot  suppress  it.  Hear,  Charles  Henry,  what 
I  have  to  say,  and  if  it  is  not  true,  forgive  me.  I  fear  you  do  not 
go  willingly  into  the  ai-my,  and  that  your  heart  does  not  beat  with 
joy  at  the  thought  of  becoming  a  soldier. " 


184       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Charles  Henry,  laughing,  "I  do  not  go 
willingly  ;  and  how  should  it  be  otherwise?  it  is  a  wild,  disorderly 
life,  and  it  strikes  me  it  cannot  be  right  for  men  who,  our  pastor 
says,  should  love  each  other  like  brothers,  to  vie  in  cutting  off  each 
other's  limbs,  and  to  fire  upon  each  other  without  mercy  or  pity, 
as  if  one  were  the  butcher,  the  other  the  poor  ox,  who  only  resists 
because  he  does  not  wish  to  give  up  his  life ;  and  in  this  case  all 
would  be  the  butchers,  and  none  the  oxen,  therefore  each  one  gives 
his  stroke  bravely  to  preserve  his  own  life. " 

"  It  would  be  sad  if  it  were  as  you  say, "  said  Anna,  shaking  her 
head, "but  it  is  not  so.  The  true  soldier  does  not  think  of  his  life  ; 
he  thinks  of  his  countiy,  for  which  he  will  gladly  shed  his  blood — 
of  his  king,  to  whom  he  has  sworn  to  be  true — and  of  the  glory 
which  he  will  gain  for  himself !" 

Charles  Henry  looked  in  amazement  upon  Anna  Sophia's  agitated 
countenance. 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?"  said  he.  "Who  has  told  you  that 
these  are  soldiers'  thoughts?" 

"  I  have  read  of  it  in  my  books,  Charles  Henry  ;  in  one  of  them 
there  is  the  history  of  a  man  whose  name  was  Leonidas.  He  defend- 
ed, with  three  hundred  of  his  soldiers,  against  many  thousands  of  hia 
enemy,  a  narrow  passway.  He  well  knew  that  he  could  not  con- 
quer ;  his  soldiers  also  knew  it,  but  they  preferred  death  rather  than 
the  humiliation  of  laying  down  their  weapons  and  praying  for 
mercy.  And  every  man  of  them  died  joyfully,  giving  up  his  life 
for  his  country. " 

"Well,  I  must  say  they  were  fools!"  cried  Charles  Henry,  ex- 
citedly ;  "  if  I  had  been  there,  I  would  not  have  done  so — I  would 
have  sued  for  pardon. " 

"  Yes, "  said  Anna  Sophia  thoughtfully — "  yes,  I  think  you  would 
have  done  as  you  say  ;  and  I  have  been  wondering  all  through  the 
past  night  whether  you  would  willingly  and  joyfully  go  to  battle?" 

"I?  God  forefend  ;  I  will  not  go  joyfully — I  will  not  go  at  all  I 
This  morning  I  intend  going  to  our  pastor  to  receive  from  him  a 
certificate,  showing  that  I  cannot  join  the  army,  as  I  have  a  decrepit 
old  father  to  support,  who  would  die  without  me. " 

"Charlea  Henry,  your  father  is  not  decrepit,  nor  very  old,  nor 
would  he  starve  if  you  were  not  here,  for  he  can  support  himself. " 

"But  he  may,  at  any  moment,  become  unable  to  help  himself, 
and  then  he  would  need  me  ;  I  would  have  no  rest  day  or  night  when 
far  away,  but  would  be  thinking  of  my  poor  old  father,  lying  sick 
and  helpless  in  his  hut,  with  no  one  near  to  give  him  a  piece  of 
bread  or  a  cup  of  water. " 

"  het  not  this  trouble  you,  Charles  Henry, "  said  Anna,  solemnly. 


THE  CERTIFICATE  OP  ENLISTMENT.  185 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  love  him  and  care  for  him  as  a  daughter. 
He  shall  want  for  nothing ;  and  when  he  can  work  no  longer,  I  am 
strong  and  healthy  enough  to  work  for  both  of  us.  Go  with  a  peace- 
ful mind,  I  will  be  here  in  your  place. " 

"  No,  no !"  cried  Charles  Henry,  turning  pale ;  "  I  will  not  join 
the  army.  I  cannot,  I  will  not  be  separated  from  you,  Anna.  You 
have  sworn  to  be  my  wife,  and  I  will  beseech  the  pastor  to  join  us 
to-day  ;  then  they  cannot  take  me  away  from  here,  for  I  will  have  a 
father  and  a  wife  to  take  care  of." 

"  Not  for  me,  Charles  Henry,  for  I  will  not  marry  yet.  Have  we 
saved  enough  to  commence  housekeeping?  Is  this  a  time  to  marry 
and  build  a  nest,  when  war,  misery,  and  ruin  are  raging  through- 
out tJie  country  ?    No,  no !  Charles  Henry,  we  cannot  marry  now. " 

"Because  you  do  not  wish  it,  Anna.  But  it  shall  be,  for  I  have 
your  promise,  and  you  must  keep  it.  Ah,  Anna  Sophia,  you  do  not 
know  what  a  longing  I  have  to  call  you  my  wife !" 

"  But  I  have  no  such  longing, "  said  she,  drily ;  "  no  desire  what- 
ever to  marry  ;  and  I  will  tell  you,  that  though  you  wish  to  marry 
to-day.  it  is  not  out  of  love  for  me,  but  to  save  yourself. " 

His  eyes  sunk  before  the  large,  searching  ones  fixed  upon  him. 

"To  save  myself,  and  from  what,  Anna  Sophia?" 

"From  being  a  soldier,  Charles  Henry  !  For  last  evening,  I  read 
upon  your  countenance  that  you  were  devoid  of  courage  " 

"You  read  that?" 

"  Yes,  Charles  Henry,  fear  was  stamped  upon  your  brow. " 

"  Well,  then, "  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "  you  have  read  aright.  I 
have  no  courage,  I  fear  for  myself.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  stand 
still,  while  some  one  is  pointing  his  gun  at  me,  and  to  cry,  'Long 
live  the  king  !'  when  the  cannon-balls  are  flying  around  me  ;  to  at- 
tack men  who  have  done  me  no  harm,  and  to  whom  I  wish  to  do 
none.  When  I  think  upon  the  possibility  of  my  being  compelled  to 
do  this,  I  tremble,  and  my  heart  ceases  to  beat.  Do  not  require  it 
of  me,  Anna,  for  if  I  have  to  go,  I  will  fly  at  the  fii-st  fight,  and 
come  back  here.  They  may  then  shoot  me  as  a  deserter,  if  they 
choose  ;  I  prefer  to  die  rather  than  to  kill  any  one  else. " 

Anna  Sophia  sprang  from  her  seat  with  a  cry  of  horror. 

"  I  thought  so, "  said  she,  in  a  low  voice ;  and,  crossing  her  arms 
upon  her  breast,  she  walked  to  and  fro,  thoughtfully. 

Charles  Henry  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  speak  to  her ;  for  she  was  so  completely  changed,  that  he 
was  almost  afraid  of  her.  There  was  something  so  cold  and  proud 
about  her  to-day,  something  aristocratic  in  her  beauty.  He  thought 
to  himself,  "It  is  thus  that  a  queen  would  look  when  drea^sed  as  a 
peasant. " 

13 


186       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Anna  Sophia  stood  still  before  him  at  last,  and  gave  him  a  ten- 
der, almost  pitiful  glance. 

"  Charles  Henry, "  said  she,  "  you  shall  not  join  the  army  ;  I  will 
not  suffer  it. " 

He  sprang  from  his  seat  with  a  cry  of  joy. 

"You  will  then  marry  me,  Anna  Sophia?"  said  he,  exultingly. 
"You  will  become  my  wife,  so  as  to  keep  me  here?  You  love  me 
too  much  to  let  me  go  !"  He  ti-ied  to  embrace  her,  but  she  waved 
him  off. 

"No,"  said  she,  "I  will  not  marry  you,  but.  still,  you  must  not 
join  the  army ;  for  if  you  l>ecame  a  deserter,  it  would  break  your 
father's  heart,  and  it  would  be  a  disgrace,  not  only  for  me,  but  for 
the  whole  village.  Think  well  over  wliat  you  have  said.  Perhaps 
you  are  mistaken  in  yourself,  and  only  dislike  joining  the  army  on 
your  poor  father's  account.  Question  your  conscience  and  your 
heai't,  and  remember,  Charles  Henry,  that  God  will  hear  your 
answer.  Do  you  truly  believe  that  you  are  wanting  in  courage — 
that  you  would  fly  from  the  battle- field  V" 

"As  truly  as  there  is  a  God  above  us,  I  believe  it,  Anna  Sophia. 
It  is  not  belief,  it  is  certainty.  It  is  not  in  my  nature  to  be  brave ; 
I  was  not  brought  up  to  it,  and  am  therefore  without  it.  I  am  an 
apt  farmer,  but  would  be  a  bad  soldier. " 

Anna  Sophia  sighed  deeply,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Thus  she  stood  for  some  time  in  front  of  her  betrothed,  and  he  saw 
the  large  tears,  stealing  through  her  fingers,  fall  upon  the  grass,  to 
be  transformed  there  by  the  sun  into  sparkling  jewels. 

"Why  do  you  weep,  Anna  Sophia?"  asked  he,  gently.  "What 
has  so  suddenly  made  you  sad?" 

Her  hands  fell  slowly  and  wearily  from  her  face.  "  I  am  not 
weeping  now, "  said  she ;  "  it  is  past — I  have  shed  my  last  tear. 
Now  we  must  settle  upon  what  is  to  be  done,  for  you  cannot  be  a 
soldier. " 

"  But  they  will  force  me, "  said  he,  "  for  I  am  tall,  strong,  and 
healthy — just  the  build  for  a  soldier. " 

Anna  Sophia  raised  herself  proudly  and  stood  beside  him.  "  I  am 
as  tall  as  you, "  said  she. 

"  It  is  true, "  replied  Charles  Henry,  laughing,  "  we  are  of  the 
same  height.  We  can  scarcely  fail  to  have  tall,  good-looking  chil- 
dren some  of  these  days !" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly,  and  looked  at  him  in  a 
strange  manner.  "  I  am  as  strong  and  as  healthy  as  you, "  said  she, 
"  my  sight  is  as  sharp,  my  hand  as  sure.  Were  I  Charles  Henry 
Buschman,  I  would  be  a  good  soldier,  for  I  have  courage— I  would 
not  tremble  at  the  cannon-balls. " 


THE  CERTIFICATE  OF  ENLISTMENT.  187 

"  But,  fortunately,  you  are  not  a  man, "  said  Charles  Henry, 
laughing.  "  You  are  the  beautiful  Anna  Sophia,  who  is  this  day  to 
become  my  wife  to  save  me  from  being  a  soldier. " 

"  No,  Charles  Henry ;  the  war  must  be  at  an  end,  and  Charles 
Henry  Buschman  must  have  returned  a  brave  soldier,  before  I  can 
marry  him. " 

"  You  mean, "  said  he,  with  trembling  lips — "  you  mean  I  must 
be  a  soldier?" 

"  As  you  have  said,  they  will  not  let  you  off.  You  are  a  strong, 
healthy  youth — you  are  unmarried,  and  have  no  one  to  support,  for 
your  father  can  take  care  of  himself.  Why,  then,  as  the  king  is  in 
need  of  soldiers,  should  they  pass  you  by  ?" 

"  It  is  too  true, "  murmured  Charles  Henry,  despondently.  After 
a  slight  pause,  he  said  :  "  But  I  will  not  be  a  soldier — I  cannot  I  For 
it  is  true  I  am  a  coward — I  have  not  a  particle  of  courage  !  That  is 
bom  with  one,  it  cannot  be  acquired ;  I  have  it  not,  and  cannot 
therefore  be  a  soldier. " 

"  Nor  shall  you  become  one, "  said  Anna,  with  determination. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"  I  will  join  the  army  in  your  stead !" 

Charles  Henry  stared  at  her.  He  was  on  the  point  of  laughing, 
but  the  sight  of  her  inspired,  earnest  countenance,  in  which  a  world 
of  determination  was  expressed,  sobered  him  completely. 

"  I  will  do  as  I  said,  for  I  have  great  courage,  and  when  I  think 
of  a  battle  my  heart  beats  loudly,  not  with  fear  but  with  rapturous 
joy.  To  me,  nothing  would  be  more  glorious  than  to  die,  banner  in 
hand,  surrounded  by  the  thunder  of  cannon,  and  to  cry  out  exult- 
ingly,  as  the  blood  flows  from  my  wounds,  '  Vive  le  roi !  x  ive  la 
XKitrie!'"  Her  form  was  raised  majestically,  her  countenance 
beamed  with  inspiration,  a  daring  fire  sparkled  in  her  eyes — she  was 
so  changed  in  form  and  expression,  that  Charles  Henry  drew  back 
from  her  in  terror. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  you,  Anna  Sophia, "  said  he,  shuddering.  "  You 
are  changed — you  are  not  like  yourself. " 

"  No, "  said  she ;  "  nor  am  I  the  same.  Yesterday  I  was  Anna 
Sophia  Detzloff — from  to-day  I  am  Charles  Henry  Buschman.  Do 
not  interrupt  me — it  must  be !  You  shall  not  break  your  father's 
heart — you  shall  not  bring  disgrace  upon  the  village.  The  king  has 
called  you — you  must  obey  the  call.  But  I  will  go  in  your  place  ; 
you  shall  remain  quietly  at  home,  thrashing  your  com,  cutting  your 
hay,  and  taking  care  of  your  kind  old  father,  while  I  shall  be  upon 
the  battle-field,  fighting  in  your  place." 

"Do  you  then  love  me  well  enough  to  give  your  life  forme?" 
CTie4  Charles  Henrj^,  with  streaming  eyes, 


188       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

She  shook  her  head  slowly,  thoughtfully.  "  I  do  not  know  if  it  be 
love, "  said  she.  "  I  only  feel  that  it  must  be  done— there  is  no  other 
outlet  but  this  to  help  us  all.  Let  us  speak  no  more  about  it — only 
teU  me  that  you  accept  it. " 

"  It  is  impossible,  Anna  Sophia. " 

"  Only  accept  it,  and  all  will  be  right. " 

"  I  cannot.     It  would  be  an  everlasting  shame  to  me. " 

She  pressed  her  teeth  tightly  together — her  eyes  gleamed  with 
anger.  "Hear  me  out,"  said  she.  "Go,  or  stay — whichever  you  do 
— I  do  not  remain  here !  I  must  away  and  seek  my  fortune.  I  have 
never  been  happy,  as  yet — upon  the  battle-field  I  may  be.  I  have 
nothing  to  lose,  and  can  therefore  win  all.  Well,  say !  Am  I  to 
be  a  soldier  in  your  stead  ?" 

"  If  you  really  wish  it,  I  must  yield, "  said  he,  sadly.  "  You  say 
you  have  nothing  to  lose,  but  I,  I  have  you,  and  I  cannot,  will  not 
lose  you.  And  as  you  would  be  angry  with  and  leave  me  if  I  said 
'No, '  I  prefer  saying  'Yes. '  " 

Anna  Sophia  gave  a  cry  of  delight,  and,  for  the  first  time,  gave 
Charles  Henry  a  willing  kiss.  "Many,  many  thanks,  Charles 
Henry, "  said  she.     "  Now  we  will  all  be  happy. " 

Charles  Henry  sighed.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  tnist  in 
Anna's  prophecy. 

"And  now,"  said  she,  eagerly,  "how  shall  we  go  about  it?" 


CHAPTER    IV. 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  VILLAGE. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Charles  Henry  accompanied  the  other 
boys  to  the  village,  where  an  officer  was  to  call  out  the  names  of  those 
who  were  drafted.  As  his  name  was  called  out,  he  did  not  change 
countenance — he  remained  as  gay  and  cheerful  as  before,  while  the 
other  boys  were  gazing  sadly,  thoughtfully  before  them.  Then  the 
officer  handed  each  of  them  a  ticket  upon  which  their  names  were 
printed,  and  ordered  them  to  go  immediately  to  the  nearest  city, 
Cleve,  and  receive  their  uniforms.  Charles  Henry  requested  a  day's 
leave,  as  he  had  various  preparations  to  make  for  his  father,  to 
whom  he  wished  to  will  the  little  property  he  had  inherited  from 
his  mother.  The  officer  granted  him  one  day.  Charles  Henry  left 
the  house  gayly,  but  instead  of  turning  his  steps  toward  the  little 
hut  inhabited  by  his  father,  he  took  the  path  leading  to  the  old 
Bcbool-house,  where  his  bride  lived. 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  VILLAGE.  189 

She  stood  at  her  door  waiting  for  him.  "  Well, "  said  she,  hastily, 
"is  all  right?" 

"  Yes, "  said  he,  sadly,  "  I  am  drafted. " 

She  grasped  the  printed  ticket  from  his  hand  and  hid  it  in  her 
bosom.  "  Now, "  said  she,  "  you  have  but  to  bring  me  a  decent  suit 
of  clothes. " 

"  My  Sunday  suit,  Anna, "  said  he,  smiling.  "  It  is  new  ;  I  in- 
tended to  be  married  in  it." 

"  I  shall  not  hurt  it, "  said  she.  "  There  is  a  merchant  at  Cleve, 
whom  I  know  to  be  good  and  honest — I  will  leave  the  clothes  with 
him,  and  next  Sunday  you  can  walk  to  the  city  for  them." 

"You  will  not  even  keep  them  to  remember  me  by?" 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  ever  to  forget  you,  Charles  Henry,  for  I 
shall  bear  your  name. " 

"From  now  on,  throughout  your  whole  life,  you  shall  bear  it, 
Anna.  For  when  you  return,  you  will  remember  your  promise,  and 
marry  me.     You  will  not  foi'get  me  when  far  away?" 

"How  do  I  know  I  shall  return?"  said  she.  "A  soldier's  life  is 
in  constant  danger.  There  can  be  no  talk  of  marriage  imtil  this  war 
is  over.  But  it  is  now  time  we  were  asleep,  Charles  Henry.  You 
and  I  have  many  things  to  do  to-morrow ;  we  must  arrange  our 
household  affairs — you  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  and  I  in  good 
earnest.     Good -night,  then,  Charles  Henry. " 

"Will  you  not  kiss  me  on  this  our  last  night,  Anna  Sophia?"  said 
he,  sadly. 

"  A  soldier  kisses  no  man, "  said  she,  with  a  weary  smile.  "  He 
might  embrace  a  friend,  as  his  life  ebbed  out  upon  the  battle-field, 
but  none  other,  Charles  Henry.     Good-night. " 

She  entered  and  bolted  the  door  after  her,  then  lighting  a  candle 
she  hastened  to  her  attic-room.  Seating  herself  at  her  father's 
table,  she  spread  a  large  sheet  of  foolscap  before  her  and  commenced 
writing.  She  was  making  her  will  with  a  firm,  unshaken  hand. 
She  began  by  taking  leave  of  the  villagers,  and  implored  them  to 
forgive  her  for  causing  them  sorrow ;  but  that  life  in  the  old  hut, 
without  her  parents,  had  become  burdensome  to  her,  and  as  her  be- 
trothed was  now  going  away,  she  could  endure  it  no  longer.  She 
then  divided  her  few  possessions,  leaving  to  every  friend  some  slight 
remembrance,  such  as  ribbons,  a  prayer-book,  or  a  handkerchief. 
Her  clothes  she  divided  among  the  village  wives.  But  her  house, 
with  all  its  contents,  she  left  to  Father  Buschman,  with  the  request 
that  he  would  live  in  it,  at  least  in  summer. 

When  she  had  finished,  she  threw  herself  upon  her  bed  to  rest 
from  the  many  fatigues  and  heart  aches  of  the  daj'.  In  her  dreams 
her  parents  appeared  to  her — they  beckoned,  kissed,  and  blessed  her. 


190       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Strengthened  by  this  dream,  she  sprang  joyfully  at  daybreak  from 
her  couch.  She  felt  now  assured  that  what  she  was  about  to  do  was 
right,  for  otherwise  her  parents  would  not  have  appeared  to  her. 
She  now  continued  the  preparations  for  her  journey  cheerfully. 
She  packed  all  her  linen  clothes  into  a  small  bundle,  and  then 
scoured  and  dusted  her  litle  house  carefully.  Dressing  herself  with 
more  than  her  usual  care,  and  putting  her  testament  in  her  pocket, 
she  left  the  house. 

Anna  took  the  road  leading  to  the  parsonage  ;  she  wished  to  go 
to  confession  to  her  old  pastor  for  the  last  time.  He  had  known  her 
during  the  whole  of  her  short  life  ;  had  baptized  her,  and  with  him 
she  had  taken  her  first  communion.  Slie  had  confessed  to  him  her 
most  secret  thoughts,  and  with  loving  smile,  he  absolved  what  she 
deemed  her  sins.  He  would  not  break  the  seal  of  confession,  and 
she  therefore  opened  her  heart  to  him  without  fear. 

The  old  pastor  was  deeply  moved,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
head  he  wept.  When  she  had  bid  him  a  long  and  loving  adieu,  and 
had  wiped  the  teara  from  her  eyes,  she  left  the  parsonage  and  has- 
tened to  the  woods,  where  Father  Buschman  was  tending  his  sheep. 
As  soon  as  the  old  shepherd  saw  her,  he  beckoned  to  her  his  welcome. 

"I  did  not  see  you  throughout  the  whole  of  yesterday,  Anna 
Sophia,"  said  he,  "and  my  heart  was  heavy  within  me  ;  there  was 
something  wanting  to  my  happiness. " 

"I  will  remain  with  you  to-day  to  make  up  for  yesterday's  ab- 
sence, "said  she,  seating  herself  beside  him  and  kissing  him  ten- 
derly. "  I  could  not  work  to-day,  for  my  heart  aches ;  I  will  rest 
myself  with  you." 

"  Your  heart  aches  because  Charles  Henry  must  leave  us, "  said 
the  old  shepherd.  "  You  would  prefer  his  remaining  at  home,  and 
not  being  a  soldier?" 

"  No,  I  would  not  prefer  this,  father, "  said  she,  earnestly ; 
"would  you?" 

The  old  man  looked  thoughtful  for  some  time,  then  said  : 

"It  will  be  a  great  sorrow  to  me,  Anna  Sophia,  for  he  is  the  last 
remaining  light  of  my  youth,  and  when  he  goes  all  will  be  dark  and 
gloomy  for  me.  It  does  me  good  to  see  his  bright,  handsome  face  ; 
to  hear  his  gay  morning  and  evening  song  ;  and  when  you  two  are 
sitting  beside  me  hand  in  hand  upon  the  old  bench  at  the  front  of 
our  little  hut,  my  youth  comes  back  to  me.  I  see  myself  sitting  on 
the  same  bench  with  my  dear  old  woman — it  was  our  favorite  seat 
when  we  were  young.  When  Charles  Henry  leaves  me,  I  not  only 
lose  him,  but  my  whole  past  life  seems  to  vanish  away. " 

"You  would,  therefore,  prefer  he  should  remain  at  home?"  said 
A1XU4,  anxiously. 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  VILLAGE.  191 

"  If  itVere  possible, "  said  he,  "  but  it  is  not.  His  king  has  called 
him,  he  must  obey. " 

"But  he  may,  perhaps,  be  allowed  to  stay,  father,  if  you  will  de- 
clare that  you  are  too  old,  too  weak  to  support  yourself,  and  wish 
the  only  prop  of  your  old  age  to  remain  with  you,  the  authorities  at 
Cleve  may,  perhaps,  grant  your  request. " 

The  old  shepherd  shook  his  head  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  and 
3aid: 

"No,  we  will  not  make  the  attempt ;  it  would  be  deception,  and 
could  bring  us  no  honor.  I  am  not  too  weak  to  earn  my  own  liv- 
ing, and  it  would  be  a  disgrace  to  Charles  Henry  if  I  bought  him  off 
from  his  duty.  The  world  might  then  think  he  was  a  coward,  and 
had  not  courage  enough  to  fight. " 

"  Do  you  think  it  a  disgrace  for  a  man  to  be  wanting  in  courage?" 
said  Anna  Sophia,  gazing  at  him  as  if  her  life  depended  upon  his 
answer. 

"  I  think  so, "  said  he,  calmly  ;  "  it  is  as  bad  for  a  man  to  be  with- 
out courage  as  for  a  woman  to  be  without  virtue." 

Anna  Sophia  raised  her  dark,  glowing  eyes  to  heaven  with  an 
expression  of  deep  thankfulness.  Then  giving  way  to  her  emotion, 
she  threw  her  arms  around  the  old  shepherd,  and,  leaning  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  she  wept  bitterly.  He  did  not  disturb  her,  but 
pressed  her  tenderly  to  his  heart,  and  whispered  occasionally  a  few 
loving,  consoling  words.  He  believed  he  understood  her  sorrow ; 
he  thought  he  knew  the  source  of  these  tears.  She  was  weeping  be- 
cause all  hope  of  preventing  her  betrothed  from  being  a  soldier  was 
now  gone. 

"  Weep  no  more,  my  child, "  said  he,  at  last ;  "  your  eyes  will  be 
red ;  it  will  sadden  Charles  Henry,  and  make  it  harder  for  him  to 
say  good-by.  See,  there  he  comes  to  join  us — do  not  weep,  my 
child." 

Anna  raised  her  head  and  dried  her  eyes  hastily. 

"  I  am  not  weeping,  father, "  said  she.  "  I  entreat  you  do  not  tell 
Charles  Henry  that  I  have  been  crying — do  not,  if  you  love  me.  I 
will  promise  not  to  be  sad  again. " 

"  I  will  be  silent,  but  you  must  keep  your  word  and  be  cheerful, 
BO  as  not  to  sadden  the  poor  boy. " 

"I  will."  , 

Anna  Sophia  kept  her  word.  She  gave  Charles  Henry  a  bright, 
cheery  welcome.  While  she  was  joking  and  laughing  with  the  old 
man,  evening  came  upon  them,  and  as  it  cast  its  shadows  about, 
Charles  Henry  became  more  and  more  silent  and  sad. 

It  was  now  time  to  drive  home  the  fold  ;<  the  sun  had  ^t,  aod 
ph^ylax  had  collected  his  little  ^rmy. 


192        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  old  shepherd  arose.  "And  now,  my  children,"  said  he, 
"  take  leave  of  one  another.  It  is  the  last  sunset  you  will  see  to- 
gether for  many  a  long  day.  Swear  to  each  other  here,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God  and  of  his  beautiful  world,  that  you  will  be  true  to  each 
other,  that  your  love  shall  never  change. " 

Charles  Henry  looked  timidly,  beseechingly  at  Anna  Sophia,  but 
she  would  not  encounter  his  gaze. 

"We  have  said  all  that  we  had  to  say, "said  she,  quietly,  "we 
will  therefore  not  make  our  parting  harder  by  repeating  it." 

"  It  will  make  parting  much  easier  to  me, "  cried  Chai'les  Henry, 
"if  you  will  swear  to  be  time,  and  always  to  love  me.  Though 
many  years  may  pass,  Anna  Sophia,  before  we  meet  again,  I  will 
never  cease  to  love  you,  never  cease  to  think  of  you. " 

"This  will  I  also  do,  Charles  Henry,"  said  Anna,  solenmly. 
"  My  thoughts  will  be  with  you  daily,  hourly ;  your  name  will  be 
constantly  upon  my  lips !" 

Charles  Henry  turned  pale.  He  understood  the  ambiguous 
meaning  of  this  oath,  and  it  cut  him  to  the  heart. 

"And  now,  good-night,  Aima  Sophia,"  said  the  old  shepherd; 
"to-morrow  evening,  when  your  work  is  done,  I  will  await  you 
here.  We  will  have  to  love  and  console  each  other.  Good -night 
once  more !" 

"Good-night,  dear  father,"  whispered  she,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  tears,  as  she  pressed  a  burning  kiss  on  his  brow. 

The  old  man  took  her  in  his  arms  and  embraced  her  tenderly, 
then  whispered : 

"To-morrow  we  will  weep  together,  Anna  Sophia." 

Anna  tore  herself  from  his  arms. 

"Good -night,  father!" — and  then  turning  to  Charles  Henry,  she 
said  :  "  When  do  you  leave  for  Cleve?" 

"Tonight,  at  ten,"  said  he  ;  "I  prefer  going  at  night ;  it  is  much 
hotter  in  the  day,  and  I  must  be  at  Cleve  at  eight  in  the  morning. 
I  will  be  at  your  door  to-night,  to  take  a  last  look  at  you. " 

"It  is  all  right,"  said  she,  dryly,  turning  from  him  and  hasten- 
ing home. 

Night  had  come ;  the  village  night-watch  had  announced  the 
tenth  hour ;  no  light  gleamed  through  the  windows — the  busy  noise 
and  bustle  of  day  had  given  place  to  deep  quiet.  The  wliole  village 
was  at  rest,  every  eye  was  closed.  No  one  saw  Charles  Henry  as  he 
passed,  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  took  the  path  leading  to 
the  old  school-house— no  one  but  the  moon,  that  was  gleaming 
brightly  above,  and  was  illuminating  the  solitary  wanderer's 
path. 

for  the  first  time  h§  fougd  Anna  Sophia's  door  open — he  ha4  BO 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  VILLAGE.  193 

need  to  knock.  He  entered  undisturbed  with  his  bundle,  which 
contained  the  suit  of  clothes  Anna  had  desired. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  door  was  opened,  and  two  tall,  slenderly- 
built  young  men  left  the  house.  The  moon  saw  it  all ;  she  saw  that 
the  man  with  the  hat  on,  and  with  the  bundle  on  his  back,  was  none 
other  than  Anna  Sophia  Detzlofif,  daughter  of  the  old  school-teacher. 
She  saw  tliat  the  one  who  was  following  her,  whose  countenance 
was  so  ghastly  pale — not  because  the  moon  was  shining  upon  it,  but 
because  he  was  so  sad,  so  truly  wretched — that  this  other  was  Charles 
Henry  Buschman,  who  was  coward  enough  to  let  his  bride  go  to 
battle  in  his  stead !  The  moon  saw  them  shake  hands  for  the  last 
time  and  bid  each  other  farewell. 

"  Let  me  go  a  little  bit  of  the  way  with  you,  Anna  Sophia, "  said 
Charles  Henry  ;  "  it  is  so  dark,  so  stiU,  and  soon  you  will  go  through 
the  woods.  It  is  best  I  should  be  with  you,  for  it  is  so  fearfully 
gloomy.     Let  me  accompany  you,  Anna  Sophia. " 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  the  woods, "  said  she,  gently  ;  "  the  stars  above 
will  watch  over  and  guard  me,  the  moon  will  shed  her  light 
upon  my  path,  it  will  not  be  dark.  I  must  go  my  way  through 
life  alone — I  must  have  no  fear  of  any  thing,  not  even  of  death. 
Leave  me  now,  and  be  careful  that  you  are  seen  by  no  one  during 
the  whole  of  to-morrow  in  my  house.  No  one  will  go  there  to- 
morrow, for  I  have  left  word  in  the  village  that  I  am  going  on  a 
visit  to  my  aunt  at  Cleve.  I  have  prepared  your  meals  for  you  ;  the 
table  is  set,  and  above,  in  my  room,  you  will  JBnd  books  to  read. 
You  can  stand  it  for  one  day,  to-morrow  evening  you  will  be  re- 
leased.   Farewell,  Charles  Henry !" 

"Do  not  go,  Anna  Sophia, "  said  he,  weeping  and  trembling  ;  "I 
will  go.  I  will  force  my  heart  to  be  courageous !  You  must  stay 
here." 

"  It  is  too  late, "  said  Anna ;  "  nor  could  you  do  it,  Charles  Henry. 
You  are  afraid  of  the  dark  woods,  and  what  comes  beyond"'  is  much 
more  fearful.  We  have  taken  leave  of  each  other,  the  worst  is  past. 
Kiss  your  father  for  me,  and  when  at  times  you  are  sitting  upon  the 
old  bench,  remind  him  of  Anna  Sophia. " 

"  I  will  obey  you, "  whispered  he. 

But  Anna  was  not  listening  to  him  ;  she  had  turned  from  him, 
and  was  hastening  down  the  road. 

The  moon  saw  it  all  1  She  saw  the  tears  steal  slowly  from  Anna 
Sophia's  eyes,  and  fall  imknown.  to  herself  upon  her  cheek,  as  she 
turned  her  back  upon  her  old  home  and  hastened  forward  to  a  life 
of  danger,  privation,  and  want.  She  saw  Charles  Henry  leaning 
upon  the  door  of  the  old  school-house,  staring  after  Anna  with  a 
trembling  heart  until  the  last  glimpse  of  her  w^s  lost  m  the  di^tJiQt 


194        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

woods.  He  then  entered  the  school -house  and  fastened  the  door  be- 
hind him.  His  heart  was  heavy  and  sorrowful,  he  was  ashamed  of 
himself ;  he  was  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  but  had  not  the  strength 
to  change  it ;  and  as  he  went  over  Anna  Sophia's  departure,  he  was 
inwardly  rejoiced  that  he  himself  was  to  remain  at  home. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  after  Anna's  departure,  there 
was  a  great  stir  in  the  village,  there  were  two  astounding  reports  to 
excite  the  community.  Charles  Henry  Buschman  had  returned 
from  Cleve  ;  they  had  told  him  he  could  be  spared  for  a  while.  The 
second  report  wa.s  that  Anna  Sophia  had  not  returned  from  her  visit. 
They  waited  for  several  days,  and  as  she  did  not  come,  Charles 
Henry  went  to  the  distant  village  where  her  aunt  lived.  But  he 
returned  with  sad  news.  Anna  Sophia  was  not  there,  her  aunt  had 
not  seen  her. 

What  had  become  of  her?  Where  was  she?  No  one  could  clear 
up  the  mystery.  Many  spoke  of  suicide  ;  she  had  drowned  herself 
in  the  large  lake  to  the  left  of  the  village  they  said,  because  her  be- 
trothed had  to  leave  her.  The  old  pastor  would  not  listen  to  this  ; 
but  when  the  aunt  came  to  take  possession  of  her  niece's  worldly 
goods,  he  had  to  bring  forward  the  will  Anna  had  given  him,  in 
which  she  had  willed  her  all  to  Father  Buschman.  And  now  no  one 
doubled  that  Anna  had  laid  hands  upon  herself.  The  mystery  re- 
mained unsolved.  Every  one  pitied  and  sympathized  with  Charles 
Henry,  who  had  lost  all  his  former  cheerfulness  since  the  death  of 
his  bride ! 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  PRISONER. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  Frederick  von  Trenck  entered  the 
fortress  of  Magdeburg.  Two  years !  What  is  that  to  those  who 
live,  work,  strive,  and  fight  the  battle  of  life?  A  short  space  of 
time,  dashing  on  with  flying  feet,  and  leaving  nothing  for  remem- 
brance but  a  few  important  moments. 

Two  years !  What  is  that  to  the  prisoner?  A  gray,  impenetrable 
eternity,  in  which  the  bitter  waters  of  the  past  fall  drop  by  drop 
upon  all  the  fimctions  of  life,  and  hollow  out  a  grave  for  the  being 
without  existence,  who  no  longer  has  the  courage  to  call  himself  a 
man.  Two  years  of  anxious  waiting,  of  vain  hopes,  of  ever-renew- 
ing self-deception,  of  labor  without  result. 

This  was  Trenck's  existence,  since  the  day  the  doors  of  the  cita- 
del of  Magdeburg  closed  upon  him  as  a  prisoner.  He  had  had  many 
i>itt©r  disappointmente,  much  secret  suffering;  be  had  le?imed  tQ 


THE  PRISONER.  196 

know  human  nature  in  all  its  wickedness  and  insignificance,  its  love 
of  money  and  corruption,  but  also  in  its  greatness  and  exaltation, 
and  its  constancy  and  kindness. 

Amongst  the  commandants  and  officers  of  the  fortress  whose 
duty  it  was  to  guard  Trenck,  there  were  many  hard  and  cruel  hearts, 
which  exulted  in  his  tortures,  and  who,  knowing  the  king's  personal 
enmity  to  him,  thought  to  recommend  themselves  by  practising  the 
most  refined  cruelties  upon  the  defenceless  prisoner.  But  he  had 
also  found  warm  human  souls,  who  pitied  his  misfortunes,  and  who 
sought,  by  every  possible  means,  to  ameliorate  his  sad  fate.  And, 
after  all,  never  had  the  night  of  his  imprisonment  been  utterly  dark 
and  impenetrable.  The  star  of  hope,  of  love,  of  constancy,  had 
glimmered  from  afar.  This  star,  which  had  thrown  its  silver  veil 
over  his  most  beautiful  and  sacred  remembrances,  over  his  young 
life  of  liberty  and  love,  this  star  was  Amelia.  She  had  never  ceased 
to  think  of  him,  to  care  for  him,  to  labor  for  his  release ;  she  had 
always  found  means  to  supply  him  with  help,  with  gold,  with  active 
friends.  But,  alas !  all  this  had  only  served  to  add  to  his  misfor- 
tunes, to  naiTow  the  boundaries  of  his  prison,  and  increase  the 
weight  of  his  chains. 

Treachery  and  seeming  accident  had,  up  to  this  time,  made  vain 
every  attempt  at  escape,  and  destroyed  in  one  moment  the  sad  and 
exhausting  labors  of  many  long  months.  The  first  and  seemingly 
most  promising  attempt  at  flight  had  miscarried,  through  the  trea- 
son of  the  faithless  Baron  Weingarten,  who  had  offered  to  commu- 
nicate between  Trenck  and  the  princess. 

For  six  long  months  Ti'enck  had  worked  with  ceaseless  and  in- 
comparable energy  at  a  subterranean  path  which  would  lead  him  to 
freedom ;  all  was  prepared,  all  complete.  The  faithful  grenadier, 
Gefhart,  who  had  been  won  over  by  the  princess,  had  given  him  the 
necessary  instruments,  and  through  the  bars  of  his  prison  had  con- 
veyed to  him  such  food  aa  would  strengthen  him  for  his  giant  task. 

Nothing  was  now  wanting  but  gold,  to  enable  Trenck,  when  he 
had  escaped,  to  hire  a  little  boat,  which  would  place  him  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Elbe — gold,  to  enable  him  to  make  a  rapid  flight. 

Gefhart  had  undertaken  to  deliver  Trenck's  letter  to  the  princess, 
asking  for  this  money.  This  letter,  written  with  his  own  blood 
upon  a  piece  of  linen,  had  been  forwarded  through  Gefhart's  mis- 
tress, the  Jewess  Rebecca,  to  Weingarten.  He  delivered  it  to  the 
princess,  and  received,  through  PoUnitz,  two  thousand  thalers, 
which  he  did  not  hand  over  to  Rebecca,  but  retained  for  himself, 
and  betrayed  to  the  king  Trenck's  intended  flight. 

This  was  but  a  short  time  before  Weingarten's  own  flight;  and 
while  he  was  enjoying  the  fi-uit  of  this  base  fraud  in  security  and 


196       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HtS  FAMILY. 

freedom,  poor  Trenck  was  forced  to  descend  still  lower  in  the  citadel, 
and  take  possession  of  that  frightful  prison  which,  by  special  com- 
mand of  the  king,  had  been  built  and  prepared  for  him,  in  the 
lowest  casemates  of  the  fortress. 

The  king  was  greatly  exasperated  at  these  never-ending  attempts 
of  Trenck  to  escape ;  his  courage  and  endurance  made  him  an  in- 
teresting and  admired  martyr  to  the  whole  garrison  at  Magdeburg. 

Frederick  wished  to  give  to  this  gaiTison,  and  to  all  his  soldiers, 
a  terrible  example  of  the  relentless  severity  with  which  insuboKli- 
nation  should  be  punished,  to  prove  to  them  that  mortal  daring  and 
mortal  energy  were  vain  to  escape  the  avenging  hand  of  royal  justice. 

Trenck,  who,  in  the  beginning,  had  only  been  condemned  to 
arrest  in  Glatz  for  six  months,  had,  by  his  constant  attempts  at 
escape,  and  the  mad  and  eloquent  expression  of  his  rage,  brought 
upon  himself  the  sentence  of  eternal  imprisonment,  in  a  subterranean 
cell,  which,  by  express  command  of  the  king,  was  so  prepared, 
that  neither  guards  nor  soldiers  were  necessary  to  his  detention. 
A  jailer  only  was  needed,  to  lock  the  four  doors  of  the  corridor  which 
led  to  Trenck 's  cell.  It  was  as  little  dangerous  to  guard  this  poor 
prisoner  as  to  approach  the  lion  bound  by  chains  and  hemmed  in  by 
iron  bars. 

Trenck  was  indeed  manacled  like  a  wild  beast.  A  chain  clanked 
upon  his  feet,  an  iron  girdle  was  around  his  waist,  to  which  hung  a 
heavy  chain,  fastened  to  a  thick  iron  bar  built  in  the  wall ;  mana- 
cles were  made  fast  to  each  end  of  an  iron  bar,  to  which  his  hands 
were  bound.  The  most  cruel  wild  beast  would  not  have  been  so 
tortured ;  some  one  would  have  had  pity  on  him,  and  mercifully 
ended  his  life.  But  this  creature,  thus  tortured,  groaning  and 
clanking  his  heavy  chains — this  creature  was  a  man,  therefore  there 
was  no  pity.  It  would  have  been  considered  a  crime  to  put  an  end 
to  his  life ;  but  slowly,  day  by  day,  to  murder  him,  was  only  justice. 

The  king  had  made  it  the  personal  duty  of  the  commandant, 
Bruckhausen,  to  guard  Trenck.  He  declared  that  if  he  allowed 
Trenck  to  escape,  he  should  not  only  lose  his  place  and  rank,  but 
take  Trenck's  place  in  his  fearful  cell.  This  was  a  frightful  menace 
to  the  ambitious  and  harsh  commandant,  Bruckh3,usen,  and,  tf 
course,  led  him  to  take  the  severest  precautions.  It  was  he,  th^e- 
fore,  who  had  bound  Trenck,  and,  whenever  he  visited  the  pool 
prisoner  in  his  cell,  he  rejoiced  in  the  artistic  construction  of  hi& 
chains,  and  looked  proudly  upon  his  work.  He  saw  with  delight 
ihat  Trenck  was  scarcely  able  to  drag  his  heavy  chains  two  feet  to 
the  right  or  left,  or  to  raise  the  tin  cup  to  his  parched  lips,  with  his 
hands  thus  fastened  to  an  iron  bar ;  and  as  often  as  he  left  the  ceU, 
be  exclaimed,  with  an  expression  of  malicious  joy : 


THE  PRISONER.  197 

"I  have  tamed  him  forever !  he  will  not  escape  me  !" 

But  Trenck  was  not  tamed  ;  his  courage  was  not  broken.  In  this 
crushed  and  wasted  form  dwelt  a  strong  soul,  a  bounding  heart ;  he 
had  been  bound  in  chains  thought  to  be  indissoluble.  Trenck  alone 
did  not  believe  this  ;  he  trusted  still  in  the  magic  power  of  his  will, 
in  his  good  star,  which  had  not  yet  been  quenched  in  darkness. 

In  the  wall  to  which  the  chain  was  fastened,  his  name  was  built, 
in  red  tiles ;  a  gravestone  marked  the  spot  upon  which  his  feet 
moved,  upon  which  a  death's  head  and  the  name  of  Trenck  was  en- 
graved. Under  this  stone  there  was  a  vault,  and  when  one  looked 
at  the  moist  walls,  from  which  the  water  constantly  trickled,  and 
at  the  dark  cell,  which  for  six  months  had  not  been  cheered  by  one 
ray  of  light,  they  might  well  suppose  that  the  gravestone  would 
soon  be  lifted,  and  the  vault  opened  to  receive  the  poor  prisoner, 
upon  whose  grave  no  other  tears  would  flow.  These  dark  walls 
were,  as  it  appeared,  softer  and  more  pitiful  than  the  hearts  of  men. 

Trenck  was  not  subdued ;  the  death's  head  and  his  name  upon 
the  gravestone  did  not  terrify  him !  It  was  nothing  more  to  him 
than  a  constant  reminder  to  collect  his  courage  and  his  strength, 
and  to  oppose  to  his  daily  menace  of  death  a  strong  conviction  of 
life  and  liberty. 

If  his  prison  were  dark,  and  warmed  by  no  ray  of  sunshine,  he 
leaned  his  head  against  the  wall,  closed  his  eyes,  and  his  vivid 
imagination  and  glowing  fancy  was  the  slave  of  his  will,  and 
painted  his  past  life  in  magic  pictures. 

The  prisoner,  clad  as  a  convict,  with  his  hands  and  feet  chained, 
became  at  once  the  child  of  fortune  and  love ;  the  exalted  favorite 
of  princes,  the  admired  cavalier,  the  envied  courtier,  and  the  dar- 
ling of  lovely  women. 

When  h\mger  drove  him  to  eat  the  coarse  bread  which  was  his 
only  nourishment,  and  to  satisfy  his  thiret  with  the  muddy  water 
in  the  tin  pitcher  at  his  side,  he  thought  of  the  meals,  worthy  of 
Lucullus,  of  which  he  had  partaken,  at  the  Russian  court,  by  the 
side  of  the  all-powerful  Russian  minister  Bestuchef ;  he  remembered 
the  fabulous  pomp  which  surrounded  him,  and  the  profound  rever- 
ence which  was  shown  him,  as  the  acknowledged  favorite  of  the 
prime  minister  of  the  empress. 

When  no  one  whispered  one  word  of  consolation  or  of  sympathy, 
for  all  trembled  at  the  ceaseless  watchfulness  of  the  commandant — 
when  the  rude  silent  jailer  came  daily  and  placed  his  bread  and 
water  before  him  and  left  him  without  word  or  greeting — theu 
Trenck  recalled  the  sacred,  consecrated  hours  in  which  love  had 
whispered  sweet  names  and  tender  words.  This  love  still  lived— it 
watched  over  and  shone  down  upon  him— it  was  a  star  of  hope 


198       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Why  should  Trenck  despair,  when  love  lived  aud  lived  only  for  him? 
No,  he  would  not  die — he  would  never  be  buried  under  this  grave- 
stone. Beyond  these  thick,  damp  walls  lay  the  world — the  living, 
active,  blooming  world.  It  was  only  necessary  to  break  these 
chains,  to  open  the  five  heavy  doors  which  confined  him  to  his  dark 
prison,  and  life,  liberty,  the  world,  honor,  love,  belonged  to  him  ! 

"  Is  not  my  will  stronger  than  chains  and  bolts?"  he  said.  "  Has 
not  the  spirit  wings  by  which  she  can  take  flight,  mocking  at  prisons 
and  at  torture  ?" 

His  spirit  was  free,  for  he  believed  in  freedom  :  when  his  chains 
clanked  around  him,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  they  whispered  of 
speedy  liberty — as  if  they  exhorted  him  in  soft,  harmonious  tones, 
to  cast  them  off  and  become  a  free  and  happy  man. 

At  last  there  came  a  day  when  he  could  no  longer  resist  these 
alluring  voices.  If  he  could  break  these  chains  the  first  step  was 
taken,  and  only  the  doors  remained  to  be  opened.  By  close  observa- 
tion, he  had  discovered  that  the  inner  door  of  his  prison  was  of 
wood.  The  faithful  Gefhart  had  managed  to  inform  him  that  the 
other  doors  were  also  of  wood.  He  had  also  conveyed  to  him  a 
small,  sharp  knife,  the  most  precious  of  all  earthly  treasures,  for 
with  this  he  hoped  to  obtain  his  freedom. 

"  But  the  chains  1"  First  must  the  chains  be  broken — first  must 
his  right  hand  be  free  !  And  it  was  free.  Although  the  blood  was 
bursting  from  the  nails  Trenck  forced  his  liand  through  the  mana- 
cle. Freedom  greeted  him  with  her  first  rapturous  smile.  Alas, 
the  handcuff  upon  the  left  hand  was  too  narrow  to  be  removed  in 
this  way.  With  a  piece  of  his  chain  he  broke  off  a  fragment  of 
stone  which  he  used  as  a  file,  and  in  this  way  he  liberated  his  left 
hand.  The  iron  ring  aroimd  his  waist  was  fastened  only  by  a  hook 
to  the  chain  attached  to  the  wall.  Trenck  placed  his  feet  against 
the  wall,  and  bending  forward  with  all  his  strength,  succeeded  in 
straightening  the  hook  so  far  as  to  remove  it  from  the  ring.  And 
now  there  only  remained  the  heavy  wooden  chain  fastened  to  his 
feet,  and  also  made  fast  to  the  wall.  By  a  powerful  effort  he  broke 
two  of  the  links  of  this  chain. 

He  was  free — free — at  least  to  stand  erect  and  walk  around  his 
miserable  prison.  With  a  feeling  of  inexpressible  joy  he  raised 
himself  to  his  full  height — it  enraptured  him  to  move  his  arms,  so 
long  and  painfully  confined — he  extended  them  widely  and  power- 
fully, as  if  he  wished  to  clasp  the  whole  outside  world  to  his  heart. 
Could  the  commandant  Bruckh&usen  have  cast  one  glance  into 
this  horrible,  noiseless  cell,  he  would  have  trembled  with  rage  and 
apprehension.  The  unchained  giant  stood  with  glad  smiles,  and 
flAjniug;  eyes,  f^cl  outstretched  ariiw, «»  H  ^djuiiog  the  spirits  of  the 


THE  PRISONER.  199 

under- world  to  come  to  his  assistance.  But  the  commandant  lay  in 
careless  security  upon  his  soft,  white  couch  ;  his  eyes  were  closed  ; 
they  could  not  pierce  the  dark  cell  where  a  fellow-man,  with  loudly- 
beating  heart,  but  silent  lips,  called  rapturously  to  the  fair  goddess 
Liberty,  and  hastened  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms. 

Stepping  forward,  he  sought  the  door  of  his  prison,  and  kneeling 
before  it,  he  took  out  his  knife.  He  tried  to  cut  out  a  small  piece 
and  to  ascertain  the  thickness  of  the  wall ;  this  was  short  work — the 
door  opened  inside,  and  it  was  easy  to  cut  around  and  remove  the 
lock.  It  was  made  of  simple  oak  boards.  Once  convinced  of  this, 
Trenck  prudently  sought  his  mattress  in  order  to  obtain  rest  and 
strength.  It  was  impossible  to  commence  his  labor  then.  The  night 
was  far  spent,  and  every  morning  at  eight  o'clock  the  jailer  came  to 
inspect  him  and  bring  his  bread  and  water.  His  visit  must  be 
over  before  he  could  begin  his  work — he  must  possess  his  soul  in  pa- 
tience. What  were  a  few  hours'  waiting  to  him  who  had  waited 
long,  dreary  years? — a  fleeting  moment,  scarcely  sufficient  to 
accustom  him  to  his  new  happiness,  to  enable  him  to  collect  his 
thoughts  and  bear  quietly  the  i*apturous  conviction  of  approaching 
freedom. 

"  Yes,  I  will  be  free  ;  this  is  the  last  night  of  my  imprisonment. " 
But  while  waiting  in  this  dreary  prison  he  could  enjoy  one  pleasure 
long  denied  him — he  could  stretch  his  limbs  upon  his  bed  without 
being  martyred  and  crushed  by  his  bond.s — without  hearing  the 
clank  of  chains.  With  what  gladness  he  now  stretched  himself 
upon  his  poor  couch !— how  grateful  he  was  to  God  for  this  great 
happiness ! — how  sweet  his  sleep  ! — how  glorious  his  dreams  I 

Trenck  awaked  in  the  early  morning,  revived  and  strengthened. 
It  was  time  to  prepare  for  the  daily  visitation — to  replace  his  chains, 
and  take  possession  of  his  gravestone.  His  eyes  accustomed  to  the 
darkness  soon  discovered  the  broken  link  of  the  chain,  which  he  hid 
in  his  mattress.  With  a  piece  of  his  hair-band  he  fastened  the  chain 
to  his  feet,  hung  the  second  chain  to  the  ring  upon  his  waist,  and 
now  it  only  remained  to  place  his  hands  in  the  manacles  fastened  to 
the  iron  bar.  He  had  filed  the  handcuff  from  his  left  hand  and  that 
was  easy  to  resume,  but  it  was  impossible  to  force  his  right  hand 
through  the  ring ;  he  had  succeeded  in  removing  it  by  a  mighty 
effort  the  evening  before,  but  it  was  consequently  greatly  swollen. 
He  took  again  his  little  piece  of  stone  and  tried  to  file  it  apart,  but 
every  effort  was  in  vain.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  hour  of  visi- 
tation, and  if  his  right  hand  were  free  when  the  jailer  came,  all 
would  be  discovered.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  heard  already  the 
bolt  of  the  first  door.  With  a  last,  frightful  effort,  he  forced  his 
)uind  in  the  manacle ;   his  fingers  cracked  as  if  the  bones  were 


^00       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

broken ;  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  him  to  suppress  a  shriek  of  an- 
guish. But  the  danger  was  even  at  the  door,  and  the  blessing  of 
freedom  was  not  too  dearly  bought  even  by  this  anguish  ;  he  bore  it 
with  heroic  fortitude,  and  though  his  whole  figure  trembled  with 
pain,  he  conquered  himself.  He  leaned  back  breathlessly  and  almost 
unconsciously  against  the  wall ;  and  now  the  bolt  really  moved,  and 
the  jailer,  followed  by  two  oflftcers,  entered. 

The  visitation  began.  In  this  small  cell,  which  held  nothing  but 
a  mattress,  a  seat  built  in  the  wall,  and  a  small  table,  there  was  but 
little  to  examine.  A  fleeting  glance  at  Trenck's  chains,  which 
were  rattling  around  him,  and  the  search  was  over,  and  the  jailer 
and  officers  left  the  prison.  Trenck  listened  in  breathless  silence 
till  he  heard  the  bolt  of  the  fifth  door  rattling,  and  now  life  and 
movement  were  in  his  form  and  features.  It  was  time  to  work. 
But  alaa !  it  was  impossible.  The  swollen,  blood-red,  throbbing 
hand  could  not  possibly  be  withdrawn  from  the  handcuff.  He  must 
control  himself — must  wait  and  be  patient.  He  resolved  to  do  this 
with  a  brave  heart,  in  the  full  conviction  that  he  would  attain  his 
liberty. 

At  last,  after  three  days,  the  swelling  disappeared,  and  he  found 
he  could  withdraw  his  hand  without  difficulty.  The  visit  was  no 
sooner  over,  than  his  chains  fell  off.  For  the  last  time  !  God  gi-ant 
that  for  the  last  time  he  had  heard  them  clank  ! 

A  herculean  work  was  before  him,  but  Freedom  was  without 
and  awaiting  him,  and  he  panted  to  embrace  her.  Seizing  his  little 
pocket-knife,  he  stepped  to  the  door  and  commenced  his  labor.  The 
first  door  was  not  difficult,  it  opened  from  within.  In  half  an  hour 
the  work  was  done,  and  Trenck  advanced  and  extended  his  hands 
before  him  till  they  encoimtered  another  obstacle.  This  was  the 
second  door.  But  here  was  indeed  a  weary  task.  The  door  opened 
on  the  outside  and  a  heavy  cross-bar  besides  the  lock  secured  it.  It 
was  necessary  to  cut  entirely  through  the  door  above  the  bar,  and 
spring  over  it.  Trenck  did  not  despair — bravely,  unwearily,  he 
went  to  work — the  perspiration  fell  from  his  brow  and  mingled  with 
the  blood  which  trickled  from  his  lacerated  hands.  Trenck  did  not 
regard  it;  he  felt  no  pain,  no  exhaustion.  Freedom  stood  before 
the  frowning  citadel,  and  awaited  his  coming.  At  last  it  was 
achieved  ;  with  trembling  hands  he  lifted  the  upper  part  of  the  door 
from  the  hinges  and  sprang  into  the  outer  room. 

Here  light  and  sunshine  greeted  him.  Weary  months  had  gone 
by  since  he  had  seen  the  sun — the  soft  light  of  heaven  on  the  fresh 
green  of  earth — and  now  all  this  was  his  once  more.  There  was  a 
small  window  in  this  corridor,  and  not  too  high  for  him  to  look 
abroad.     He  turned  his  eyes,  filled  with  tears  of  the  purest  joy, 


7" THE  PRISONER.  201 

upon  the  cloudless  heavens  ;  he  followed  with  longing  eyes  the  flight 
of  the  doves,  who  moved  like  a  black  cloud  across  the  sky  and  dis- 
appeared on  the  horizon.  He  inhaled  with  long-drawn  breath  the 
fresh,  glad  air,  which  appeared  to  him  laden  with  the  fragrance  of 
all  the  flowers  of  the  world.  He  gave  himself  up  for  a  few  moments 
to  this  first  rapturous  enjoyment,  then  conquered  himself  and  ex- 
amined his  surroundings  with  a  thoughtful,  searching  eye. 

He  saw  that  his  prison  was  built  against  the  first  wall  of  the  for- 
tress, and  was  exactly  opposite  an  entrance,  before  which  stood  a 
high  palisade ;  this  he  must  climb  before  he  could  reach  the  outer 
wall.  But  the  night  was  long,  and  he  saw  that  the  guard  patrolling 
upon  the  wall  disappeared  from  time  to  time  for  more  than  five 
minutes ;  he  must  therefore  have  some  distance  to  walk  before  he 
returned  to  the  same  spot.  While  his  back  was  turned,  must 
Trenck  climb  the  palisade  and  wall. 

Trenck  sprang  back  upon  the  floor  with  a  glad  and  happy  heart. 
What  he  had  seen  of  the  free,  outer  world  had  given  him  new  life. 
With  cheerful  resolution  he  stepped  to  the  third  door.  This  was 
constructed  like  the  first,  and  gave  him  but  little  trouble — it  was 
soon  opened,  and  Trenck  passed  on  the  other  side. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  the  twilight  obscured  his  view,  as  this 
was  completed.  And  now  his  strength  was  exhausted,  and  his 
swollen  and  bleeding  hands,  from  which  the  flesh  hung  in  shreds, 
refused  their  service.  With  inexpressible  despair  he  looked  at  the 
fourth  door,  which  opened  from  the  outside,  and  it  was  again  neces- 
sary to  cut  through  the  whole  breadth  of  the  door  in  order  to  advance. 

Worn  out  and  trembling,  he  seated  himself  near  the  door  and 
leaned  his  aching  head  against  the  cool  wood.  He  sat  thus  a  long 
time,  till  he  felt  that  his  blood  was  flowing  more  calmly,  and  the 
wild,  quick  beating  of  his  pulse  had  subsided — till  the  pain  in  his 
hands  and  limbs  was  quieted,  and  he  had  won  new  strength.  He 
then  rose  from  the  floor,  took  his  knife,  and  recommenced  his  work. 
He  moved  more  slowly  than  before,  but  his  work  progressed.  It 
could  scarcely  be  midnight,  and  half  the  door  was  cut  through. 
The  moon  shed  her  peerless  rays  through  the  little  window  and 
lighted  his  work,  and  showed  him  what  remained  to  be  done.  In 
two  hours  he  would  finish,  and  then  remained  only  the  fifth  door 
which  opened  on  the  wall,  and  which  Gefhart  assured  him  was  not 
difficult.  In  three  houra  the  work  would  be  done — in  three  hours 
he  might  stand  without,  in  the  fresh,  free  air  of  heaven,  himself  a 
free  and  happy  man. 

With  renewed  courage  and  renewed  sti'ength,  after  a  short  rest, 
he  went  again  to  work.     He  thrust  his  knife  into  the  opening  and 
pressed  powerfully  against  the  wood.     Suddenly  his  hand  seemed 
14 


a02       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

paralyzed — on  the  otlier  side  of  the  door  he  heard  a  light  clang,  and 
with  a  hollow  cry  of  woe,  Ti-enck  sank  upon  the  floor.  The  blade  of 
the  knife  was  broken  and  had  fallen  on  the  other  side.  Now  he  was 
lost !  There  was  no  longer  hope  of  escape  !  He  rushed  to  the  win- 
dow ;  would  it  not  be  possible  to  escape  in  that  way?  No,  no !  It 
was  not  possible  to  pass  through  this  sniall  opening. 

Trenck  sank  upon  his  knees  before  the  window  and  stared  into 
the  heavens.  His  pallid  lips  murmured  low  words.  Were  they 
prayers? — were  they  curses? — or  was  it  the  death-rattle  of  dead  hopes 
and  dying  liberty?  At  last  he  rose  from  his  knees ;  his  face,  which 
had  been  that  of  a  corpse,  now  assumed  an  expression  of  firm  resolve. 
Staggering  and  creeping  along  by  the  wall,  he  returned  to  his  prison, 
which  he  had  left  so  short  a  time  before  full  of  happy  hopes.  He 
reached  his  bed  and  laid  down  upon  it,  holding  the  broken  knife  in 
his  hand.  Not  to  sleep,  not  to  rest,  but  to  die  !  He  could  think  of 
no  other  hope — no  other  way  than  this.  "  Yes,  I  will  die !"  His 
life's  courage,  his  life's  energy,  was  e.xhausted.  He  had  closed  his 
account  with  the  world.  Slowly  he  raised  his  hand  aloft  with  the 
broken  knife,  and  collecting  all  his  strength  for  one  last,  decisive 
blow,  he  bowed  and  cut  the  vein  of  his  left  foot,  then  raised  his 
head  with  a  smile  of  triumph,  and  stretching  out  his  left  arm  he 
forced  the  stump  of  his  knife  deep  into  the  large  vein  of  his  elbow. 
The  deed  was  done  I  He  felt  the  warm  blood  flowing  from  his  veins 
—he  felt  that  with  it  also  was  sweeping  by  the  miserable  remnant  of 
his  buried  existence.  His  thoughts  wandered,  and  a  happy  insensi- 
bility overpowered  him,  and  now  his  blessed  spirit  floated  chainless 
and  free  beyond  this  drear  prison.  Tlie  necessities  of  this  poor  life 
and  its  tortures  were  overcome. 

But  what  was  that?  Who  called  his  name  lightly  from  without, 
and  made  the  air  of  this  living  grave  tremble  with  unwonted  tones? 

When  this  call  was  repeated  the  second  time,  Trenck  felt  a  lighf 
trembling  in  his  whole  frame.  Tlie  whisper  of  his  name  had  called 
back  his  fleeting  spirit.  The  godlike  dream  of  release  was  at  an 
end ;  Trenck  lived  again,  a  suffering,  defenceless  man.  For  the 
third  time  he  heard  his  name  called— for  the  third  time  a  toiee,  aa 
if  from  heaven,  rang,  "Trenck!  Trenck!" 

Trenck  gathered  all  his  little  strength,  and  replied  : 

"Who calls  me?" 

"It  is  I,"  said  the  faithful  Gefliart ;  "have  I  not  sworn  to  bring 
you  help?  I  have  crept  over  the  wall  only  to  say  to  you  that  I  think 
of  you— that  you  must  not  despair— that  help  is  nigh,  even  at  the 
door.  An  unknown  friend  has  sent  you  a  greeting  by  me ;  he  has 
given  me  a  roll  of  gold  to  be  useful  in  your  flight.  Come  near,  I 
will  throw  it  to  you  through  the  window. " 


THE  PRISON  BARRICADE.  203 

"  It  is  too  late,  Gef  hart,  all  is  too  late  !  I  lie  bathed  in  my  blood ; 
fco -morrow  they  will  find  me  dead  !" 

"But  why  die?"  cried  the  fresh,  strong  voice  of  Gefhart;  "why 
wish  for  death,  now  when  escape  is  possible?  Here  there  are  no 
guards,  and  I  will  soon  find  a  way  to  furnish  you  with  tools.  Try 
only  to  break  your  prison — for  the  rest  I  will  remain  responsible. " 

■'  Alas,  I  tried  to-night  and  I  failed  !"  said  Trenck.  A  few  tears 
stole  from  his  eyes  and  rolled  slowly  over  his  hollow  cheeks. 

"  You  will  succeed  better  another  time.  Baron  Trenck  ;  whenever 
I  am  on  guard  here  I  will  seek  an  opportunity  to  speak  with  you, 
and  we  will  aiTange  all.  Do  not  despair.  I  must  go,  the  sun  i§ 
rising,  and  I  may  be  seen.  Do  not  despair !  God  will  help  you — 
trust  fully  in  me. "  * 

The  voice  had  long  since  died  away,  but  Trenck  listened  still  for 
those  tones,  which  seemed  like  the  greeting  of  one  of  God's  angels  ; 
they  illuminated  his  prison  and  gave  strength  to  his  soul.  No,  no, 
now  he  would  not  die  !  He  felt  his  courage  revive.  He  would  defy 
fate,  and  oppose  its  stem  decreee  by  the  mighty  power  of  his  will. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    PRISON    BARRICADE. 

No,  he  would  not  die !  With  trembling  hands  he  tore  his  coarse 
shirt  into  strips,  and  bound  with  it  his  bleeding  veins.  When  he 
had  thus  closed  the  portals  upon  death,  he  seated  himself  to  medi- 
tate upon  the  means  of  avoiding  still  severer  punishment.  He  soon 
arose  from  his  bed,  much  strengthened  by  the  short  rest  he  had  had. 
With  an  iron  bar  that  he  had  forced  from  his  bed  he  hammered  into 
the  wall  until  the  stones,  around  which  the  mortar  had  become 
loosened  owing  to  the  dampness  of  the  cell,  fell  at  his  feet.  He 
piled  them  together  in  the  centre  of  his  cell,  and  then  hastened  to 
barricade  the  second  door  he  had  attempted  to  force.  The  lower 
part  of  it  was  still  held  on  by  the  lock  ;  over  the  opening  at  the  top 
he  passed  the  chains  several  times  that  he  had  forced  from  his  limbs, 
forming  a  sort  of  trellis- work,  which  rendered  entrance  from  without 
impossible. 

When  all  his  preparations  were  made,  when  he  was  ready  for  the 
pontest,  he  seated  himself  upon  his  sti'ange  barricade,  and  there, 
wearied  out  by  suffering  and  anxiety,  he  fell  into  a  sweet  sleep. 
He  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  many  loud  voices.  Through  the 
Jrpn  lattice  of  the  second  door  he  saw  the  wondering,  terrified  coUQ- 
»"  Fre4ericlj  von  Trenck'  Iniport4ntI4eR)oir8,"  '  < 


204        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

tenances  of  the  city  guard,  who  were  endeavoring  to  unloose  the 
chains.  With  one  bound  Trenck  was  beside  his  door,  balancing  in 
his  right  hand  a  large  stone,  and  in  the  left  his  broken  knife.  He 
cried  out,  in  a  furious  voice  : 

"Back!  back! — let  no  one  dare  to  enter  here.  My  stones  shall 
have  good  aim  ;  I  will  kill  any  one  who  ventures  to  enter  this  room. 
Major,  tell  his  excellency,  the  commandant,  that  I  will  remain  no 
longer  in  chains.  I  wish  him  to  have  me  shot  down  at  once !  I 
will  thank  him  for  my  death,  but  I  will  curse  him  if  he  forces  me 
to  become  a  murderer.  For  I  swear,  before  God,  I  will  stone  any 
one  who  seeks  to  overpower  me.     I  will  die — yes,  die !" 

It  was  a  fearful  sight — this  man,  thin,  wan,  naked,  and  bleed- 
ing, who  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  grave  to  revenge  the  suffer- 
ings of  his  life.  His  countenance  was  ghastly  pale,  his  hair  lying 
in  matt4?d  locks  on  his  neck  ;  and  the  long  beard,  covering  the  lower 
part  of  his  face,  and  falling  almost  to  his  waist,  gave  him  a  wild, 
insane  look,  which  was  heightened  by  the  fearful  brightness  of  his 
eyes. 

With  terror  and  pity  they  gazed  at  the  poor  unfortunate  one 
whom  despair  had  driven  to  this  extremity  ;  who  remained  deaf  to 
all  their  representations,  all  their  entreaties,  still  swearing  that  he 
would  kill  any  one  who  approached  him.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
officers  besought  him  in  the  most  tender  manner  to  submit — that  the 
prison  chaplain  came  and  implored  him,  in  the  name  of  God,  to 
give  up  this  useless  resistance.  God's  name  had  no  effect  whatever 
upon  him.  What  was  God  to  him — to  him  on  whom  no  one  had 
pit}-,  neither  God  nor  man  ;  he  whom  they  treated  like  a  wild  beast, 
and  fastened  in  a  cage?  It  was  in  vain  that  the  commandant 
ordered  the  guard  to  storm  the  fortified  door.  Trenck  received  them 
with  stones,  and  sent  the  two  foremost  ones  reeling  to  the  floor, 
causing  the  others  to  fall  back  in  disamy. 

Trenck  raised  his  hand  with  a  shout  of  exultation,  armed  with 
another  stone,  and  fixing  his  wild,  triumphant  glance  upon  the 
commandant,  he  cried : 

"You  see  it  is  useless  to  endeavor  to  take  me  while  living. 
Order  the  guards  to  fire !    Let  me  die !" 

The  commandant  lacked  the  power  to  do  as  Trenck  requested, 
however  willing  he  may  have  been  to  grant  his  request.  Instead  of 
continuing  his  threats,  he  withdrew  into  another  chamber,  signing 
to  the  major  to  follow  him. 

Trenck  still  stood  with  uplifted  arm  when  the  major  returned. 
And  now,  as  the  stem,  much-feared  commandant  had  left,  no  one 
withheld  the  tender  sympathy  that  was  almost  breaking  the  hearts 
of  the  lookers-on,    Trenck  saw  it  written  upon  every  countenance, 


THE  BATTLE  OP  COLtm.  205 

and  he  to  whom  a  look  and  word  of  pity  had  been  so  long  imknowa, 
felt  deeply  touched.  His  expression  became  milder,  and  as  the 
major,  whom  he  had  known  in  the  other  prison,  commenced  to 
speak  to  him  in  gentle,  loving  tones,  and  implored  him  not  to  cause 
his  ruin,  for  all  the  punishment  would  fall  upon  his  head,  as, 
through  his  negligence,  Trenck  had  been  allowed  to  retain  his  knife 
— as  he  finished,  Trenck 's  arm  fell  to  his  side,  and  tears  streamed 
from  his  eyes. 

"No  one,"  said  he,  gently — "no  one  shall  become  unhappy 
through  me,  for  misery  is  a  feai'ful  thing.  I  will  make  no  fuither 
resistance,  if  you  will  swear  to  me  that  no  heavy  chains  sliall  be  put 
upon  me — that  I  shall  suffer  no  unworthy  punishment. " 

The  major  promised  him,  in  the  commandant's  name,  that  if  he 
ceased  to  resist,  no  further  notice  would  be  taken  of  the  affair. 

"Then,"  whispered  Trenck,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "I  must  suffer 
anew — suffer  forever. " 

He  approached  the  door  and  drew  off  the  chains. 

"Now,  guards,"  said  he,  "the  door  can  be  opened.  The  wild 
beast  has  become  tame. " 

Then,  with  a  low  moan,  he  sank  fainting  upon  the  floor.  He 
was  lifted  up  and  laid  upon  his  bed.  Tears  were  in  every  eye,  but 
Trenck  did  not  see  them ;  he  did  not  hear  their  low,  whispered 
words  of  sympathy  and  friendship.  Death,  from  whom  Trenck  had 
once  more  been  torn,  had  sent  her  twin  sister,  insensibility,  to  cause 
him  to  forget  his  sufferings  for  a  while. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE    BATTLE    OP    COLLIN. 

Lost  ! — the  battle  was  lost !  This  was  the  cry  of  woe  throughout 
the  Prussian  camp — this  was  the  fearful  cry  that  palsied  the  hands 
of  those  who  could  not  endure  defeat. 

The  Prussians  who  had  defeated  the  enemy  at  Losovitz  and 
Prague,  were  condemned  to  yield  the  palm  of  victory  at  Collin  to 
their  enemy's  commander,  Mai"shal  Daun.  They  had  fought 
bravely,  desperately  for  this  victory  ;  and  when  all  was  over,  death 
would  have  been  preferable  to  defeat. 

The  Prussians  were  beaten,  though  their  king,  Ziethen,  and 
Moritz  von  Dessau— all  of  them  heroes — were  in  the  field.  At  the 
first  thought  of  the  possibility  of  losing  the  battle,  there  was  a  fear- 
ful panic  throughout  the  army. 


a06       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  UXS  FAMILY. 

"We  are  lost!  lost!" — and  this  cry  caused  them  to  throw  down 
their  arms  and  fly,  as  if  followed  by  a  thousand  furies ;  as  victory 
was  impossible,  they  wished  at  least  to  save  their  lives. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  officers  implored  them  to  rally  again  and 
fall  upon  the  enemy.  They  did  not  heed.  In  vain  that  the  king 
himself  rode  among  them,  pointing  with  his  sword  to  the  enemy, 
and  crying : 

"Forward'  forward,  boys!  Would  you  live  forever?  Death 
comes  to  all  !*' 

They  looked  at  him  stubbornly ;  they  feared  not  now  his  piercing, 
eagle  glance,  his  royal  countenance.     They  looked  and  said : 

"  We  have  worked  hard  enough  to-day  for  eightpence, "  and  then 
continued  their  flight. 

But  the  king  could  not  yet  be  brought  to  believe  the  truth.  He 
still  trusted  in  the  possibility  of  victory.  He  clung  with  desperation 
to  this  hope ;  he  let  his  voice  be  heard — that  voice  that  generally 
had  such  power  over  his  soldiers ;  he  called  them  to  him,  and 
pointed  out  to  them  the  enemy's  battery ;  he  ordered  the  band  to 
play  a  martial  air  to  inspire  the  men.  This  caU  brought  a  few 
faithful  soldiers  around  him — only  forty  warriors  were  ready  to 
follow  their  king. 

"  Forward !  we  will  take  the  battery !"  cried  he,  as  he  pressed  on, 
regardless  of  the  shower  of  the  enemy's  balls. 

What  was  this  to  him  ?  what  had  he  to  do  with  death— he  whose 
only  thought  was  for  the  honor  and  gloiy  of  his  army?  If  he  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  this  battery,  it  would  encourage  his  desponding 
soldiers.  They  would  once  more  believe  in  the  star  of  their  king, 
and  assemble  bravely  around  him.  This  it  was  that  gave  hope  to 
the  king. 

Without  once  looking  back,  he  pressed  onward  to  the  battery — 
when  suddenly,  amid  the  clatter  of  trumpets  and  the  roar  of  can- 
non, this  fearful  question  reached  him  : 

•Sire,  would  you  take  the  battery  alone?" 

The  king  reined  in  his  horse  and  looked  behind  him.  Yes,  he 
was  alone  ;  no  one  was  with  him  but  his  adjutant,  Major  von  Grant, 
who  had  asked  this  question. 

A  deep  groan  escaped  the  king ;  his  head  fell  upon  his  breast, 
and  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  bitterness  of  despair. 

A  cannon-ball  fell  beside  him — he  did  not  heed  it;  he  was  too 
utterly  wretched.  Another  ball  struck  his  horse,  causing  it  to  prance 
with  pain  and  terror. 

Major  Grant  grasped  the  king's  bridle. 

"Sire."  said  he,  "are  you  determined  to  be  shot?  If  so,  let  me 
know  it,  and  with  your  majesty's  permission  I  will  withdraw. " 


THE  BATTLE  OF  COLLIN.  207 

The  king  raised  his  head,  and  looked  at  the  daring  adjutant  with 
a  bitter  smile. 

"  We  will  both  withdraw, "  said  he,  gently,  advancing  toward  the 
generals  who  had  been  seeking  him  throughout  the  battle-field.  He 
greeted  them  with  a  silent  bow,  and  passed  without  a  word.  Whither 
he  was  now  going,  none  of  the  generals  knew,  but  they  followed 
him  in  silence. 

The  king  rode  up  the  slight  eminence  from  which,  on  that  morn- 
ing, his  army  had  fallen  like  a  glittering  avalanche  upon  the  enemy. 
This  avalanche  was  now  transformed  into  a  stream  of  blood,  and 
corpse  upon  corpse  covered  the  ground.  He  reined  in  his  horse  and 
gazed  at  the  Austrian  army,  who  were  now  withdrawing  to  cheir 
camp,  m'dst  shoutings  and  rejoicings,  to  rest  after  their  glorious 
victory.  Then,  turning  his  horse,  he  looked  at  the  remains  of  his 
little  army  flying  hither  and  thither  in  the  disorder  of  defeat.  A 
deep  sigh  escaped  him.  Throwing  his  head  back  proudly,  he  called 
Prince  Moritz  von  Dessau  and  the  Duke  of  Bevem  to  his  side. 

"Sirs,"  said  he,  firmly  ;  "the  fate  of  to-day  is  decided.  All  that 
now  remains  for  us  to  do,  is  to  deprive  the  enemj'  of  the  advantages 
of  this  victory.  Collect  our  scattered  regiments,  and  lead  the 
army  through  the  defile  of  Plainan,  back  to  Nimburg.  'Xjgg/re  we 
will  decide  what  is  best  to  do.  I  go  on  before  you,  and  wish  no  one 
to  accompany  me. " 

He  tvuTied  his  horse,  rode  slowly  down  the  hill,  then  took  the 
road  leading  to  Nimburg.  Lost  in  deep  thought,  he  continued  his 
way.  He  was  followed  by  his  faithful  body-guard,  who,  at  a  sign 
from  Prince  von  Dessau,  had  hastened  after  him.  A  few  flying 
oflBcers  and  sergeants  joined  him.  These  were  the  followers  of 
Prussia's  hero-king ;  but  they  were  suddenly  scattered.  A  soldier 
galloped  up  to  them,  and  stated  that  he  had  just  encountered  a  regi- 
ment of  the  enemy's  hussars,  who  were  pursuing  them.  There  was 
a  cry  of  terror  throughout  the  guards,  and  then,  as  if  with  one  ac- 
cord, putting  spurs  to  their  horses,  they  fled  in  wild  disorder. 

The  king  continued  his  way,  slowly  and  quietly — slowly  and 
quietly  a  few  of  his  guard  followed  him.  In  funereal  silence  they 
passed  through  the  defile  of  Plainan,  and  reached  at  last  Nimburg, 
the  king's  appointed  place  of  meeting. 

The  king  now  reined  in  his  horse,  and,  looking  back,  he  became 
aware  of  his  followers.  Beckoning  to  his  adjutant,  he  ordered  him 
to  get  quarters  for  the  soldiers,  and  then  to  inform  the  generals  that 
he  awaited  them. 

"Where?"  asked  the  astonished  adjutant. 

"Here!"  said  the  king,  pointing  to  a  fallen  pump,  a  few  steps 
frpin  where  be  stoo^. 


208       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

He  dismounted,  and,  when  the  adjutant  had  disappeared,  he 
threw  himself  upon  the  old  pump,  and  rested  his  head  upon  his  cane. 
Thus  he  remained  a  long  while,  thinking  painfully  of  the  occur- 
rences of  the  past  day.  He  remembered  that  he  had  appointed  the 
site  of  to-day's  battle,  without  listening  to  the  warnings  of  his  ex- 
perienced generals,  and  that  Moritz  von  Dessau  had  implored  him 
to  put  his  army  in  another  position,  before  attacking  the  enemy. 
He  remembered  the  prince  saying  to  him — "  It  would  be  impossible 
for  an  attack  from  this  point  to  succeed, "  and  his  entreating  him  to 
draw  back  and  change  his  position.  He  remembered,  also,  his 
riding  up  to  the  prince,  with  his  naked  sword,  and  inquiring,  in  a 
threatening  tone,  "whether  he  meant  to  obey  or  not?"  And  Prince 
Moritz  von  Dessau  had  obeyed ;  his  prophecy  had  been  fulfilled — the 
battle  was  lost. 

"Ah,"  whispered  the  king,  "how  poor,  how  weak  is  man  1  The 
happiness  of  an  hour  intoxicates  him,  and  he  defies  his  coming  fate  ; 
he  should  know  that  happiness  is  a  fleeting  guest,  but  that  misfor- 
tune is  the  constant  companion  of  man.  I  have  allowed  myself  to  be 
deceived  by  fortune,  and  she  has  turned  against  me.  Fortune 
is  a  woman,  and  I  am  not  gallant.  The  fickle  goddess  watches 
carefully,  and  makes  good  use  of  my  faults.  It  was  a  great  fault 
to  da^I*  with  twenty-three  battalions  of  infantry,  to  attack  an 
army  of  sixty  thousand  men,  half  of  whom  are  cavalry.  Ah ! 
ray  great  ancestor,  Frederick  William,  what  have  you  to  say 
of  your  poor  nephew,  who,  with  his  little  host,  is  fighting  against 
Russia,  Austria,  a  large  part  of  Germany,  and  a  hundred  thousand 
French  troops?  Will  you  assist  me?  Will  you  be  my  guardian 
angel,  praying  for  me  above?  Yes,  yes!  you  will  assist  me  if  I 
assist  myself,  and  do  not  give  way  to  my  faults.  Had  I  been  killed 
in  to-day's  battle,  I  would  now  be  in  a  safe  haven,  beyond  the  reach 
of  storms.  But  now  I  must  swim  still  farther  into  the  stormy  sea, 
until  at  last  I  find  in  the  grave  that  rest  and  peace  which  I  shall 
never  attain  in  this  world.  This  is  a  consoling  thought ;  it  shall 
rouse  me  again  to  life.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  die  to-day.  I  can  still 
repair  my  fault.  All  the  responsibility  will  be  thrown  on  me  ;  it 
will  be  said,  the  battle  would  have  been  won,  but  for  Frederick's 
obstinacy.  But  let  this  be !  It  is  a  necessary  consequence  that  a 
warrior  should  suffer  for  the  faults  of  his  followers.  Through  me 
'  this  battle  was  lost,  and  in  history  it  will  go  down  thus  to  future 
generations.  But  many  a  victory  shall  still  be  recorded,  and  as  the 
(l?feat  was  owing  to  me,  so  shall  the  victory  also  come  through  me 
alone.  I  alone  will  bear  upon  my  shoulders  Prussia's  honor,  Pruss'ia's 
glory.  It  lies  now.  with  me,  bleeding  on  the  ground.  It  shall  be 
lifted  ftod  sustained  bjr  nje  alone!"    And  raising  his  burning  eyeg 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CX)LLIN.  SO? 

Heavenward,  he  seemed  to  see  these  future  victories  branded  upon  the 
skies.  Gradually  the  inspiration  left  his  countenance,  giving  place 
to  deep  thought.  He  had  delivered  his  funeral  oration  to  the  lost 
battle,  and  now  gave  his  thought  to  his  future  victories.  He 
drew  lines  and  figures  upon  the  sand  with  his  cane.  It  may  have 
been  a  drawing  of  the  last  or  a  sketch  of  the  next  battle. 

The  king  was  so  absorbed  in  this  occupation,  that  he  did  not  per- 
ceive his  generals,  who,  having  reached  Nimburg  with  the  wreck 
of  the  army,  hastened  to  tlie  place  of  appointment,  and  were  now 
assembled  at  a  respectful  distance  from  him. 

Frederick  continued  to  sketch.  The  generals  gazed  at  him  in 
silence,  anxiously  awaiting  the  moment  when  he  would  arouse  him- 
self. He  suddenly  looked  up,  and  did  not  seem  surprised  to  see 
them ;  lifting  his  hat  slightly,  he  greeted  them,  and  rose  from  his 
lowly  seat. 

"  It  is  well,  sirs,  that  you  are  here, "  said  he.  "  "vVe  must  now 
make  our  preparations  for  the  future ;  for  our  enerxi»es,  having 
beaten  us  once,  will  think  us  no  longer  capable  of  resisting  them, 
and  will  fall  upon  us  with  renewed  courage.  We  will  convince 
them,  gentlemen,  that  though  we  are  stricken  to  the  ground  for  a 
moment,  we  are  not  crushed,  not  dead.  We  will  convin^jp  them 
that  we  still  live  to  tear  from  them  the  laurels  they  have  taken  from 
us  this  day.  Prince  von  Dessau,  hasten  immediately  to  our  army 
at  Prague.  I  command  the  Prince  of  Prussia  to  raise  the  siege 
there  at  once.  He  shall  call  all  his  generals  together,  and  hold 
council  with  them  as  to  the  most  suitable  mode  of  retreat.  He  shall 
determine  with  them  how  the  siege  can  best  be  raised  ;  to  avoid,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  appearance  of  flying  from  their  enemy.  With 
gay  music  they  should  leave  their  posts  ;  they  should  not  all  leave 
together,  but  in  groups,  so  as  to  mislead  the  enemy.  In  small  com- 
panies should  also  the  retreat  through  Bohemia  to  Lausitz  be  made, 
for  it  would  be  difficult  for  a  large  army  to  pass  this  mountainous 
district ;  but  they  should  remain  as  near  together  as  possible,  choos- 
ing the  widest,  most  convenient  roads.  These  are  the  orders  you 
are  to  deliver  my  brother,  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  and  his  generals. 
I  give  to  the  prince  the  command  of  this  portion  of  my  army,  and 
require  of  him  to  hasten  to  Lausitz.  I  will  join  him  in  Bautzen. 
And  then,  gentlemen,  we  will  seek  an  occasion  to  repay  our  enemies 
for  their  civilities  of  to-day. " 

The  generals  had  listened  to  him  with  breathless  attention  ;  and 
as  he  now  dismissed  them,  with  a  glorious  smile  upon  his  lips,  they 
repeated  unanimously  his  last  words,  "  We  will  repay  our  enemies 
for  their  civilities. " 

As  if  inspired  bjr  this  shout,  the  soldiers,  lying  about  the  niark«t 


210        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

place,  at  a  slight  distance  from  the  king,  broke  into  a  loud  hurrah, 
and  shouted,  "Long  Jive  our  king !" 

The  king  turned  slowly  toward  them,  but  when  he  saw  all  that 
remained  of  his  noble  army,  he  became  pale,  and  pressed  his  lips 
tightly  together,  as  if  to  suppress  a  cry  of  horror.  Then  advancing, 
followed  by  his  generals,  to  where  his  weary,  woimded  soldiers 
were  lying,  he  said  : 

" Children,  is  this  all  that  is  left  of  you?" 

"  Yes,  father,  we  are  the  last, "  said  an  old  gray-headed  officer, 
standing  before  the  king.  "There  were  many  thousands  of  us,  now 
there  are  two  hundred  and  fifty." 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  !"  repeated  the  king,  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"And  it  was  not  our  fault,"  continued  the  old  oflftcer,  "that  we 
did  not  fall  with  the  rest.  We  fought  as  bravely  as  they  ;  but  Death 
did  not  want  us.  Perhaps  he  thought  it  best  to  leave  a  few  of  us,  to 
guard  our  king.  We  all  think  so !  Some  were  left  to  repay  those 
abominable  Saxons  for  their  to-day's  work." 

"And  why  alone  the  Saxons?"  asked  the  king. 

"  Because  it  was  those  infamous  Saxon  troops  that  hewed  down 
our  regiment.  They  fell  upon  us  like  devils,  and  striking  their 
cursed  swords  into  us,  cried  out,  'This  is  for  Striegau  I'"    . 

"  Ah  I  you  see, "  cried  the  king,  "  that  while  beating  you,  they 
could  but  think  of  the  many  times  you  had  conquered  them." 

"  They  shall  think  of  this  again,  father, "  said  another  soldier, 
raising  himself  with  great  pain  from  the  ground.  "  Wait  until  our 
woimds  have  healed,  and  we  will  repay  them  with  interest. " 

"You  are  wounded,  Henry?"  said  the  king. 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  in  the  arm. " 

"And  old  Klaus?" 

"Is  dead  I" 

"And  Fritz  Verder?" 

"Dead!  He  lies  with  the  others  upon  the  battle-field.  There 
«,re  seven  hundred  and  fifty  of  us  in  heaven,  and  only  two  hundred 
and  fifty  on  earth.  But  those  above,  as  well  as  below,  still  cry— 
'Long  live  our  king  !'" 

"  Long  live  our  king, "  cried  they  all,  rising. 

The  king  made  no  reply ;  his  eye  passed  from  one  to  the  other 
pale,  exhausted  coiuitenance,  and  an  inexpressible  sorrow  overcame 
him. 

^  Dead !"  murmured  he,  "  my  faithful  guards  dead !  seven  hrm- 
dred  and  fifty  of  my  choice  men  have  fallen. "  And  overpowered  by 
his  emotion,  the  king  did  not  force  back  the  tears  welling  to  his 
eyes.  They  stole  softly  down  his  cheek,  and  Frederick  was  not 
{|e}}f^iiied.    He  djd  59t  blysh,  because  h  is  warriors  ha<J  seep  hiiji  weep 


THE  INIMICAL  BROTHERS.  211 

"Children,"  cried  the  old  officer,  after  a  pause,  and  wiping  the 
tears  from  his  weary  eyes,  "  from  now  on  it  will  be  glorious  to  die ; 
for  when  we  are  dead,  our  kii^g  weeps  for  us. " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    INIMICAL    BROTHERS. 

"The  king  comes !    The  king  is  entering  Bautzen  I" 

This  announcement  brought  pale  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  lt*rince 
of  Prussia  and  his  generals.  They  who  had  heretofore  sprang  joy- 
fully to  meet  the  call  of  their  king,  now  trembled  at  his  glance. 
They  must  now  present  to  him  the  sad  and  despoiled  remnant  of 
that  great  army  which,  under  the  command  of  the  Prince  Augustus 
William  of  Prussia,  had  made  the  retreat  from  Lausitz. 

It  had,  indeed,  been  the  most  fearful  retreat  ever  attempted  by 
the  Prussian  troops.  It  had  cost  them  more  than  the  bloodiest 
battle,  and  they  had  suffered  more  from  hardships  during  the  last 
few  days  than  ever  before  during  a  whole  campaign.  They  had 
marched  over  narrow,  stony,  rugged  mountain -paths,  between  hills 
and  horrible  abysses,  sometimes  climbing  upward,  sometimes  de- 
scending. Thousands  died  from  exhaustion;  thousands  pi-essed 
backward,  crushed  by  those  in  the  front ;  thousands,  forced  onward 
by  those  in  the  rear,  had  stumbled  and  fallen  into  fathomless  cav- 
erns, which  lay  at  the  foot  of  these  mountain  passes,  yawning  like 
open  graves.  If  a  wheel  broke,  the  wagon  waa  burned ;  there  was 
no  time  for  repairs,  and  if  left  in  the  path,  it  interrupted  the  pas- 
sage of  the  flying  army.  At  last,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  flight, 
the  provision- wagons  were  burned,  and  the  bread  divided  amongst 
the  soldiers  ;  the  equipages  and  pontoon -wagons  were  also  burned. 
Exhausted  by  their  unusual  exertions,  beside  themselves  from  pain 
and  unheard  of  suffering  the  whole  army  was  seized  with  a  death- 
1  panic. 

The  soldiers  had  lost  not  only  all  faith  in  their  good  fortune,  but 
all  faith  in  their  leaders.  Thousands  deserted ;  thousands  fled  to 
escape  death,  which  seemed  to  mock  at  and  beckon  to  them  from 
every  pointed  rock  and  every  dark  cavern.* 

While  one  part  of  the  army  deserted  or  died  of  hunger  or  exhaus- 
tion, another  part  fought  with  an  intrenched  enemy,  for  three  long 
days,  in  the  narrow  pass  of  Gabel,  under  the  command  of  General 
von  Puttkammer.  Tliey  fought  like  heroes,  but  were  at  last  obliged 
to  surrender,  with  two  thousand  men  and  seven  cannon.  Utterly 
*  Warner's  "  Campaigns  of  Frederick  the  Great  " 


an       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

broken  by  these  losses,  dead  and  dying  from  starvation  and  weari- 
ness, the  army  drew  olBF  toward  Zittau. 

There  was  but  one  thought  which  sustained  the  wearied,  and 
lent  strength  to  the  starving.  In  Zittau  were  immense  magazines 
of  grain.  In  Zittau,  the  rich  Saxon  city,  which  throughout  all 
Saxony  was  called  the  gold-mine,  they  dared  hope  for  rest  and  op- 
portunity to  recover. 

Before  this  unhappy  army  reached  Zittau,  Duke  Charles  of  Lotli- 
ringen  was  in  advance  of  them.  With  wanton  cruelty  he  reduced 
the  industrious,  open  city  to  ashes,  destroyed  the  Prussian  maga- 
zines, and,  with  his  army,  trampled  upon  the  ruins  and  the  corpses 
of  this  unfortified  town.  The  Prussians  had  now  lost  their  last  hope. 
Tliey  encamped  by  Lodau,  and  after  a  short  rest,  advanced  to 
Bautzen,  which  city  the  king  had  appointed  for  the  reunion  of  the 
two  army  corps.  And  now,  one  day  after  the  arrival  of  this  mis- 
erable remnant  of  an  army,  the  king  entered  the  camp  of  Bautzen. 

The  unhappy  moment  was  at  hand ;  they  must  now  meet  the 
stem  eye  of  the  king.  These  were  bold,  heroic  generals — the  Prince 
of  Prussia,  Von  Bevem,  Von  Wurtemberg,  Von  Dessau,  Winter- 
feldt,  Goltz,  Ziethen,  Krokow,  and  Schmettau.  Bi-avely,  trium- 
phantly had  they  fought  in  all  previous  battles,  but  now,  amidst 
,  defeat  and  disaster,  they  must  meet  the  eye  of  the  king.  This  was 
more  dangerous  to  them  than  the  most  deadly  battle,  and  they 
shrank  appalled  before  this  fearful  encounter. 

Silently,  and  frowning  darkly,  the  generals  mounted  their 
horses,  and  rode  down  the  highway — the  Prince  of  Prussia  in  ad- 
vance, and  by  his  side  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg.  And  now,  in 
front  of  them,  in  an  open  space,  they  saw  the  king.  He  was  on  his 
horse,  and  looked  sternly  toward  them.  The  Prince  of  Prussia  trem- 
bled, and,  involuntarily  checking  his  horse,  he  stooped  with  a 
weary  smile  toward  the  duke. 

"I  have  a  feeling,"  said  he,  in  low  tones,  "as  if  my  fate  was 
advancing  threateningly,  in  the  form  of  my  brother.  It  glowers 
upon  me  with  a  glance  which  aimounces  that  I  am  condemned  to 
death.  Look,  duke!  my  sentence  is  written  in  the  raging  eye  of 
the  king. " 

"The  king's  wrath  will  not  fall  upon  you  alone,"  whispered  the 
duke,  "  but  upon  us  all.  This  is  a  wild  tempest,  which  threatens  us 
all  in  the  same  moment  with  destruction." 

"A  tempest?  yes  I  the  thunder  rolls  over  all,  but  the  stroke  of 
lightning  falls  only  upon  one ;  and  I— I  am  the  one, "  said  the  prince, 
solemnly;  "I  am  the  sacrificial  offering  chosen  by  the  king,  with 
which  he  will  seek  to  propitiate  the  frowning  gods  of  destiny. " 

"God  forbid!"  said  the  duke,  sadly.    "The  king  will  be  justl 


THE  INIMICAL  BROTHERS.  213 

He  will  see  that  these  frightful  misfortunes  were  unavoidable  ;  that 
we  are  innocent. "    He  will  listen  to  our  explanations  ;  he — " 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Augustus  William,  "he  will  demand  a  subject 
for  his  scorn.  I  shall  be  this  sacrifice !  Well,  so  let  it  be ;  I  am 
willing  to  be  offered  up  for  my  fatherland !  Let  us  go  onward, 
duke. "  He  drew  his  bridle  and  they  rode  forward. 
,  The  king  remained  immovable  in  the  same  spot,  his  proud  head 
erect,  and  his  icy  glance  fixed  steadily  upon  them. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  and  could  no  longer  doubt  that  he  recog- 
nized them,  the  king  moved  slowly  round,  and  turned  his  back 
upon  them.  They  were  greatly  embarrassed — undecided  what  to 
do ;  they  looked  to  the  prince,  in  the  hope  that  he  would  advance 
and  announce  himself  to  the  king,  and  compel  him  to  notice  them. 
Prince  Augustus  William  did  not  advance  ;  he  stood  firm  and  im- 
movable, as  if  moulded  in  brass.  No  muscle  of  his  face  moved,  but 
his  pale  and  tightly -compressed  lips  slighly  trembled.  The  generals 
followed  his  example.  Silently,  immovably  they  stood  behind  him, 
their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  king,  who  remained  still  with  his  back 
turned  to  them. 

There  was  a  long  and  painful  pause ;  not  a.  word  was  spoken. 
Those  who  were  arranging  the  tents  for  the  king's  troops  were  mov- 
ing actively  about,  and  now  they  drew  near  with  their  measuring- 
line,  exactly  to  the  spot  upon  which  the  king  stood.  He  was  forced 
to  take  another  position  ;  he  turned  his  horse,  and  stood  exactly  in 
front  of  his  generals.  His  countenance  was  not  calm  and  cold,  it 
flashed  with  rage.  The  Prince  of  Prussia  had  the  courage  to  brave 
his  anger,  and,  drawing  near,  he  bowed  profoundly. 

The  king  did  not  answer  his  greeting,  and,  indeed,  appeared  not 
to  see  him.  A  black  cloud  was  on  his  brow,  and  it  became  still 
blacker  as  the  other  generals  dared  to  approach  and  salute  him. 
Suddenly,  in  that  tone  of  voice  he  was  accustomed  to  use  only  upon 
the  field  of  battle,  the  king  called  out : 

"  Goltz,  come  here !" 

The  general  advanced  from  the  circle,  with  a  firm  military  bear- 
ing, and  approached  the  king. 

"  Goltz, "  said  he,  loudly,  and  looking  as  if  he  wished  to  crush 
the  unhappy  general — "  Goltz,  tell  my  brother  and  the  other  generals 
that  if  I  did  justice,  I  would  take  off  their  heads — Winterfeldt  only 
excepted. "  * 

A  murmxu"  of  discontent  was  heard  amongst  the  generals,  and 
every  eye  was  fixed  angrily  upon  Winterfeldt.  He  turned  deadly 
pale,  and  looked  down,  as  if  ashamed  of  the  exception  the  king  had 

•  The  king's  own  words.— "Characteristics  of  the  Seren  Years'  War. " 


214        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

made,  and  dared  not  gaze  upon  those  whose  guilt  he  shared,  and 
whose  punishment  he  escaped. 

The  king  fixed  his  eye  so  piercingly  upon  the  murmurers,  that 
they  felt  his  glance  upon  them,  without  daring  to  meet  it.  Only 
the  Prince  of  Prussia  drew  still  nearer  to  the  king. 

"  Sire, "  said  he,  in  a  calm  voice,  "  my  duty  demands  that  I  should 
give  your  majesty  a  list  of  the  army.  Will  you  be  graciously 
pleased  to  acccept  it  from  me?"  He  took  the  paper  from  his  pocket, 
and  handed  it  to  the  kidg,  who  snatched  it  from  him  hastily,  and 
turned  his  back  again  upon  them. 

"  Withdraw,  messieurs, "  said  he,  "  your  presence  oppresses  me ; 
you  remind  me  of  the  disgraceful  defeat  my  army  has  suffered, 
through  the  guilt  of  its  leaders. " 

"Sire,"  said  the  Duke  of  Bevem,  "will  your  majesty  listen  to 
our  justification  ?" 

"Justification  !"  cried  the  king,  with  flashing  eyes — "if  this  im- 
paralleled  disgrace  which  you  have  all  brought  upon  my  army  could 
be  justified,  I  might  pity ;  but  I  must  curse  you.  Go,  sir  duke,  1 
will  not  look  upon  you."  And  springing  with  youthful  activity 
from  his  horse,  he  entered  his  tent. 

The  generals  were  alone.  They  looked  upon  each  other's  death- 
like faces  with  suppressed  scorn  upon  their  trembling  lips,  and  tears 
of  rage  in  their  eyes. 

"Shall  we  bear  this  shame  silently?"  said  one. 

"Shall  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  scolded  like  schoolboys?"  said 
another.  "Shall  we  suffer  foul  accusations  to  be  brought  against 
us,  and  no  opportunity  granted  for  justification?" 

As  the  murmur  of  the  generals  became  louder,  the  Prince  of  Prus- 
sia, who  had  been  standing  aside  in  deep  thought,  came  forward. 
An  expression  of  calm  resolve  was  written  upon  his  noble  features. 

"  No,  gentlemen,  you  shall  not  suffer  this.  I  undertake  to  justify 
you  to  the  king. " 

"  Do  not  attempt  it,  prince, "  said  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg  ;  "  at 
least,  not  in  this  hour.     The  king  will  crush  you  in  his  rage  !" 

Prince  Augustus  William  cast  his  eyes  to  heaven,  saying,  "I  am 
in  the  hands  of  Grod.  I  would  rather  die  by  the  king's  rage  than  to 
endure  his  contempt.  The  king  made  me  commander-in-chief  of 
this  army  corps,  and  accuses  me  of  failure  in  duty  !  He  shall  hear 
my  defence.  As  a  HohenzoUem,  as  a  general,  as  his  brother,  I  de- 
mand the  right  to  make  my  report. "  He  advanced  hastily  toward 
the  king's  tent,  but  the  Duke  of  Bevem  held  him  back. 

"Will  your  royal  highness  allow  me  to  accompany  you?"  said  he. 
"The  king's  scom  fell  upoo  me  personally,  ^n4  I  ^\s9  (Jero^nd  a 
bearing. " 


THE  INIMICAL  BHOTHERS.  215 

"No  one  shall  accompany  me,"  said  the  prince,'  solemnly. 
"  None  but  God  shall  be  witness  to  what  we  have  to  say.  Wait  for 
me,  therefore,  gentlemen.  I  shall  soon  return."  He  bowed  and 
entered  the  king's  tent. 

"  Announce  me  to  his  majesty, "  he  said  to  the  guard,  who  re- 
turned immediately  and  opened  the  inner  door  of  the  tent. 

The  prince  entered  with  a  firm  step  and  head  erect — the  door 
closed  behind  him — the  two  brothers  were  alone. 

The  king  sat  upon  a  camp-stool  by  a  little  table  covered  with 
papers.  He  held  in  his  hand  the  paper  which  the  prince  had  given 
him,  and  appeared  to  be  reading  it  eagerly.  The  prince  stood  for 
some  time  silently  at  the  door  ;  at  last,  weary  of  waiting,  he  entered 
the  tent  and  stepped  directly  before  the  king. 

King  Frederick  arose  and  fixed  his  great  eyes  scornfully  upon  his 
brother.  "  I  gave  you  an  ^my  corps  of  thirty-six  thousand  men, 
and  you  bring  me  back  sixteen  thousand !  Where  have  you  left  my 
Boldiere?" 

"They  lie  in  the  narrow  pass  of  Gabel — in  the  chasms  of  the  Erz 
mountains — they  have  died  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  they  have 
deserted, "  said  Prince  Augustvis,  solemnly. 

"And  you  dare  to  tell  me  this?"  said  the  king. 

"  I  dare  to  tell  you  what  fate  has  brought  upon  us. " 

"Fate?"  cried  the  king,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "Fate  is  ever 
the  excuse  for  the  crimes  and  follies  of  man.  Your  obstinacy  and 
your  disobedience  are  what  you  call  fate.  Prince  Augustus  William 
of  Prussia,  how  did  you  dare  to  act  contrary  to  my  instructions, 
and  to  conduct  this  retreat  through  the  mountains,  and  not  by  the 
highways?" 

"Your  majesty  gave  me  no  instructions,"  said  the  prince, 
eagerly.  "Your  majesty  commanded  me  to  take  counsel  of  my 
generals  in  every  movement,  and  I  did  so.  I  should  not  have  re- 
treated through  the  mountains  had  they  not  advised  it  in  considera- 
tion of  the  near  approach  of  the  enemy.  But  I  do  not  say  this  to 
excuse  myself,  or  to  accuse  them,  but  to  prove  to  my  brother  the 
king  that  it  was  unjust  to  place  me  under  the  guardianship  and 
direction  of  his  generals — imjust  to  place  a  mentor  by  my  side  who 
is  my  enemy — who  hates  me  and  seeks  my  destruction !" 

"Do  you  dare  to  reproach  me?"  said  the  king,  in  a  thundering 
voice. 

"  In  this  hour  I  dare  all, "  said  the  prince,  steadily.  "  This  is  a 
decisive  hour  between  you  and  me,  my  brother.  It  is  a  strife  of 
intellect,  of  spirit ;  and  although  I  know  I  am  too  weak  to  conquer, 
I  will  at  least  fall  with  honor— with  my  sword  in  my  hand  !  I  shall 
fall,  but  you  shall  not  consider  me  a  cowardly  mute  who  does  not 


aie       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

dare  to  defend  himself.  I  know  that  I  have  been  slandered  to  you  ; 
I  know  that  those  whom  you  honor  with  your  friendship  are  spies 
upon  my  every  word  and  look,  and  report  to  your  majesty  what  they 
hear  and  what  they  do  not  hear — what  is  true  and  what  is  not  true. 
I  know  I  have  been  robbed  of  my  brother's  love,  but  I  will  not  con- 
sent to  the  loss  of  his  respect  and  consideration.  Sire,  Winterfeldt 
wrote  to  you  ;  I  know  that  he  did  so.  If  he  wrote  that  I  was  obsti- 
nate and  self-willed,  and  alone  answerable  for  the  disasters  of  the 
army,*  I  call  God  to  witness  that  he  slandered  me.  Your  majesty 
speaks  of  instructions.  I  received  none.  I  would  remind  you  that 
I  entreated  you  in  vain  to  give  me  partial  instructions — that  I  wrote 
down  your  majesty's  verbally  expressed  opinions,  and  implored  you 
to  add  to  them  your  approval,  or  written  remarks  and  explanations,  f 
Your  majesty  returned  the  paper  without  signature  or  remark.  I 
alone  should  bear  the  responsibility,  aid  if  this  sad  retreat  should 
end  disastrously,  the  whole  world  might  say,  'This  was  the  work  of 
the  Prince  of  Prussia !'  Look  you,  my  brother,  I  know,  I  feel  this. 
The  lost  battle  of  Collin  demanded  an  offering,  and  I  was  predes- 
tined for  the  sacrifice. " 

The  king  uttered  a  cry  of  rage,  and  advanced  against  the  prince 
without  outstretched  arm,  but  suddenly  recovered  his  self-control, 
folded  his  arms,  and  stared  coldly  at  the  prince. 

"  I  have  listened  quietly  to  you,  hoping  always  I  might  possibly 
find  in  your  words  a  glimmer  of  excuse  for  your  blasphemous  deeds. 
I  find  none.  Have  you  finished,  or  have  you  still  something  to 
say?" 

"  I  have  this  to  say,  sire :  I  demand  that  my  conduct  be  inves- 
tigated. " 

"Woe  to  you  if  I  do  this— woe  to  you  if  I  listen  to  your  bold,  in- 
sane demand  !"  Stepping  before  the  prince,  and  fixing  his  eye  upon 
him,  he  said:  "You  have  acted  not  like  a  Prussian,  not  like  a 
general  of  Prussian  troops,  but  like  an  enemy — like  an  ally  of  Austria 
and  of  France,  who  sought  only  for  means  to  destroy  the  Prussian 
army  and  put  an  end  to  this  war.  I  know  that  it  never  had  your 
approval,  because  directed  against  your  beloved  France." 

"Ah,  my  brother,  j'ou  distrust  me  !*'  cried  the  prince,  fiercely. 

"Yes,  I  distru.st  you,"  said  the  king,  eagerly — "I  distrust  you, 
and  you  merit  it  I  You  have  just  said  that  this  was  an  important 
hour  between  us.  Well,  then,  it  shall  be  so.  I  accept  this  strife  of 
words  which  you  have  the  audacity  to  offer  me.  This  was  not  cau- 
tiously, not  wisely  done,  on  your  part.  You  yourself  have  armed 
me — my  weapons  are  sharp.     I  have  suffered  much  during  my  whole 

*  Warner's  "Campaigns  of  Frederick  the  Great." 

t  Becueil  des  Lettres  du  Roi  de  Pruase  et  du  Prince  de  Pniase.** 


y^liW  '^   ^  '"•' '''■''•^  I  I'l--* 


THE  INTERVIEW  IN  FREDERICK'S  TENT  AFTER  THE  DEFEAT. 


THE  INIMICAL  BROTHERS.  21? 

life  because  of  you,  my  brother.  This  began  even  in  the  days  of 
our  childhood,  and  will,  as  it  appears,  follow  me  to  the  grave. 
You  were  the  favorite  of  my  father,  and  I  remember  well  that  he 
one  day  proposed  to  me  to  relinquish  the  throne  in  your  favor.  I 
withstood  him.  I  did  not  pay  for  this  opposition  with  my  life,  but 
with  my  life's  happiness.  I  will  not  account  this  against  you  ;  per- 
haps you  were  innocent ;  but  it  appears  to  me  you  have  not  forgotten 
our  father's  wish — that  you  look  upon  me  as  a  usurper,  who  has 
robbed  you  of  your  throne.  You  act  as  if  you  had  the  right  to 
measure  and  criticise  all  my  undertakings,  and  to  make  yourself  a 
judge  over  me.  I  tmdertook  this  war  with  the  conviction  of  my 
right  and  my  royal  duty.  You  dared  to  protest  against  it.  You 
dared,  in  the  presence  of  my  generals,  to  speak  of  your  claims  and 
the  claims  of  your  children  !  Oh,  sir,  you  were  already  thinking  of 
the  time  when  you  would  lay  my  head  in  the  vault  and  walk  over 
my  dead  body  to  a  throne !  In  that  hour  you  stood  no  longer  by  my 
side  as  my  subject,  as  my  brother,  as  my  friend,  but  as  an  ambitious 
prince  royal,  who  hates  his  king  who  keeps  him  from  his  crown, 
and  who  is  hated  of  the  king  because  he  reminds  him  of  his  death  I 
And  during  no  moment  since  then  could  you  have  denied  this 
hatred. " 

"  Oh,  my  brother !"  said  the  prince,  painfully,  "  your  own  hatred 
has  blinded  you  and  made  you  im just.  1  have  always  loved  and 
admired  you,  even  when  I  did  not  approve  of  your  imdertakings. " 

"And  yet  it  was  you,  you  alone,"  said  the  king,  hastily,  "who 
dared,  after  the  fatal  disaster  of  Collin,  to  utter  loud  cries  of  grief 
and  despair.  When  my  courier  brought  to  you  and  the  generals 
and  the  army  the  mournful  news  of  the  lost  battle  of  Collin,  in  place 
of  strengthening  and  encouraging  my  warriors — consoling  and  in- 
spiring them  with  confidence  in  their  royal  leader — you  dared,  in 
the  presence  of  all  my  generals,  to  cry  and  whimper,  not  over  des- 
tiny, not  over  the  inconstancy  of  fortune,  but  over  the  conduct  of 
your  brother  and  your  king.  In  place  of  justifying  me  to  my  silent 
and  cast-down  generals,  you  accused  me  boldly,  and  made  my  mis- 
fortune my  crime. "  * 

"  It  is  true,  murmured  the  prince,  "  distress  and  grief  overcame 
me  and  robbed  me  of  my  reason. " 

"Even  because  you  were  so  wise  and  bold  a  warrior, "  said  the 
king,  with  a  cold  smile,  "I  wished  to  give  you  an  opportunity  to 
prove  your  genius  to  my  whole  people,  whose  sovereign  you  will  one 
day  be.  Because  you  wept  and  clamored  before  my  generals  over 
my  faults  as  a  leader,  I  wished  you  to  prove  to  them  that  you  were 
capable  of  commanding  and  bringing  good  Qut  of  evil.  I  trusted 
*  Retzow's  "Characteristics  of  Frederick." 
16 


218       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

you  with  my  third  army  corps — I  expected  it  to  retreat  safely  and 
surely  under  your  command,  after  I  had  almost  led  it  to  destruction 
in  a  bloody,  disastrous  battle.  I  gave  you  the  opportunity  to  make 
yourself  a  god  in  the  eyes  of  my  soldiers,  a  glorious  model  to  my 
generals.  What  use  have  you  made  of  these  advantages?  You 
bring  me  crippled,  hungry,  desperate  soldiers !  You  bring  me  gen- 
erals covered  with  shame,  and  blushing  over  their  guilt.  If  I  should 
deal  with  them  as  they  deserved,  I  would  give  them  over  to  a  court- 
martial  and  they  would  be  condemned. " 

"And  still  I  am  not  conscious  of  any  fault, "  said  the  prince.  "  I 
dare  to  say  fate  was  against  me,  and  that  I  am  wholly  innocent. " 

"And  I  repeat  to  you  your  conduct  has  been  that  of  an  ally  of 
France,  who  wished  destruction  to  the  Prus.sians,  and  to  close  this 
hated  war !" 

"If  that  were  so,  I  would  be  a  traitor !"  said  the  prince. 

"And  who  will  dare  say  that  you  are  not?"  cried  the  king. 
"Who  will  say  that  he  who,  while  I  was  engaged  in  war  with 
France,  e.xchanged  the  most  tender  letters  with  the  former  French 
ambassador  Valori,  and  complained  to  this  Frenchman  of  the  obsti- 
nacy of  his  brother,  who  is  also  his  king?  Who  will  say  that  this 
man  is  not  a  traitor?  Was  it  not  known  to  you,  my  brother,  when 
you  wrote  to  Valori,  that  the  French  had  already  invaded  my  West- 
phalian  provinces?  It  was  known  to  you — and  yet  you  dared  to 
write  to  a  Frenchman  that  you  were  convinced  of  the  decline  of  my 
kingdom.  And  yet  you  dared  to  bring  charges  against  me,  and  to 
say  :  '  Ce  seront  mes  enfants  qui  seront  les  victimes  des  f mites  pas- 
a^. '  Did  you  not  know  that  it  was  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour 
who  gave  occasion  for  this  war?  You  knew  it,  and  yet  j'ou  com- 
missioned Valori  to  entreat  the  marquise  to  have  her  portrait  painted 
for  you  I  Now,  sir,  I  ask  you,  in  all  candor,  if  these  are  not  the 
acts  of  a  traitor?" 

The  prince  made  a  passionate  exclamation,  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  sword. 

"  You  dare  to  dishonor  me,  ske !" 

"  I  dare  it !  I  dare  to  tell  you  the  truth, "  said  the  king,  solemnly. 
"  Take  your  hand  from  your  sword — the  truth  is  an  enemy  that  you 
cannot  contend  against  with  weapons, but  with  deeds,  and  your  con- 
duct testifies  against  you. " 

The  prince  breathed  heavily,  and  turned  deadly  pale. 

"The  contest  is  over.  Your  majesty  fights  against  me  with 
weapons  which  I  do  not  possess,  and  would  not  dare  use,  and  against 
which  I  cannot  defend  myself.  You  open  my  private  letters,  and 
from  the  harmless  confidences  of  friendship  you  make  a  traitor  of 
me.     To  call  me  a  traitor,  is  to  degrade  me.     I  am  dishonored ;  and 


THE  TNimCAL  BROTHERS.  219 

with  a  dishonored  culprit  your  majesty  cannot  contend.  I  will 
therefore  withdraw.  No  one  will  see  the  wounds  you  have  inflicted 
— which  have  pierced  my  heart ;  but,  I  tell  you,  my  brother,  I  will 
die  of  these  wounds. " 

"And  in  heaven,  I  suppose,  you  will  accuse  me  as  your  mur- 
derer?" said  the  king,  ironically. 

"  No !  in  heaven  I  will  pray  for  my  fatherland, "  said  Prince 
Augustus  William,  mildly.  He  bowed  respectfully,  turned,  and 
left  the  room. 

Without  stood  the  generals,  maintaining  a  solemn  silence.  When 
they  saw  the  prince  appear  at  the  door  of  the  king's  tent,  so  pale, 
so  suffering,  a  prophetic  warning  filled  every  breast.  It  seemed  to 
them  that  a  dying  man  approached  them,  and  with  inexpressible 
sorrow  held  out  his  hand  for  a  last  farewell. 

"  It  is  passed  !    Tlie  battle  is  ended  !" 

At  this  moment  the  adjutant  of  the  king  left  the  tent,  and  ap- 
proached the  generals,  who  stood  near  the  prince. 

"  His  majesty  commands  you  to  see  that  the  soldiers  of  the  third 
army  corps  are  kept,  as  far  as  it  is  possible,  entirely  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  army.  You  will  immediately  convey  the  order  to  the 
king's  army,  that  all  intercourse  between  them  and  the  third  army 
corps  is  forbidden,  as  this  corps  seems  to  have  lost  all  courage  and  all 
honorable  feeling. "  * 

"  The  king's  commands  shall  be  obeyed, "  said  the  generals,  coldly. 

The  prince  was  completely  overcome  by  this  last  blow,  and 
leaned  for  a  moment  upon  the  arm  of  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg  ;  he 
soon  recovered  himself,  and  turning  to  General  Schultz,  he  said  : 

"  Go  and  bring  me,  from  the  king,  the  watchword  of  the  third 
army  corps. " 

General  Schultz  withdrew,  but  returned  quickly  from  the  king's 
tent,  with  a  dark  frown  upon  his  face. 

"Well,"  said  the  prince,  "have  you  the  watchword?" 

"  No,  your  royal  highness  !  The  king  says,  that  for  cowards  and 
fugitives  he  has  no  watchword,  and  he  commanded  me  to  go  to  the 
devil." 

A  murmur  of  raee  was  heard  amongst  the  generals.  The  prince 
let  his  glance  wander  from  one  to  the  other  of  these  dark  faces. 

"  Gentlemen. "  said  he,  "  the  tempest  wiU  soon  be  over,  and  the 
sun  will  shine  again  for  you  ;  I  am  the  only  cloud  now  round  about 
you,  and  I  will  withdraw. " 

"What !  will  you  desert  us?"  said  the  generals,  sadly. 

"  Do  I  not  belong  to  the  third  army  corps?"  said  the  prince,  with 
a  painful  smile.  "  It  may  be  that  the  king  will  command  his  sol- 
♦  Kuatrin,  "Characteristics  from  the  Life  of  Frederick  the  Great" 


220       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

diers  to  have  no  intercourse  with  the  commander  of  the  third  army 
corps,  and  you  can  understand  that  I  prefer  to  anticipate  him." 

"  Will  your  highness  allow  me  to  accompany  you?"  said  the  Duke 
of  Bevem.  "  I  also  will  not  allow  myself  to  be  despised  and  railed 
at  without  any  opportimity  accorded  me  of  explanation. " 

The  prince  shook  his  head. 

"You  must  remain,  general;  the  army  cannot  spare  its  brave 
leaders.  I,  however — I  must  go.  I  will  be  the  peace-oflfering  for 
you  all.     I  am  sure  this  will  content  my  brother  the  king. " 

"Allow  me,  at  least,  to  accompany  your  royal  highness,"  said 
General  Schmettau.  "The  king  commanded  me,  through  his  adju- 
tant, to  withdraw,  and  never  dare  to  present  myself  before  his  eyes 
again.    I  also  must  leave  the  army. " 

The  prince  gave  him  his  hand. 

"You  are,  then,  a  welcome  companion.  Let  us  ride  on  to  Baut- 
zen, where  we  can  refresh  ourselves,  and  then  go  on  to  Di-esden." 

"Will  you  really  leave  us?"  said  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg,  sadly. 

"Would  you  have  me  wait  for  still  further  degradation?"  said 
the  prince.  "  No,  it  is  enough — more  than  I  can  bear. — My  horse  ! 
Gteneral,  let  us  mount. " 

The  two  horses  were  brought  forward.  The  generals  placed 
themselves  in  front,  to  take  leave  of  their  former  commander-in- 
chief,  with  all  military  honor. 

Prince  Augustus  rode  slowly  on.  Everywhere  he  met  sad  faces 
and  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Tears  indeed  were  in  his  own  eyes,  but 
he  would  not  weep — not  now  ;  there  was  time  enough  for  tears.  He 
could  weep  during  the  sad  remainder  of  his  life.  He  forced  his 
voice  to  be  firm,  and,  waving  his  sword  to  the  generals,  as  a  last 
greeting,  he  said : 

"  I  hope  no  one  of  you  will  hold  me  for  a  coward.  I  am  forced 
by  the  king  to  leave  the  army. "  He  turned  his  horse,  and,  followed 
by  Schmettau,  with  head  erect,  he  moved  slowly  off. 

"  Now,  by  Heaven, "  cried  Ziethen,  "  he  shall  not  leave  the  camp 
in  this  contemptible  way !  I  will  give  him  a  suitable  guard.  Let 
the  king  rage  ;  I  can  stand  it !"  He  nodded  to  an  oflScer.  "  Listen, 
Von  Wendt,  take  half  a  company  for  a  guard,  and  follow  imme- 
diately behind  the  prince,  to  Bautzen." 

A  few  moments  later,  an  oflBcer  sprang  along  the  highway  to 
Bautzen,  accompanied  by  his  hussars ;  they  soon  overtook  the 
prince,  who  greeted  them  kindly. 

"  Schmettau, "  gaid  he,  "  Death  avoided  me  so  long  as  I  was  on 
the  battle- field,  now  I  bear  him  along  with  me  ;  und  thus  must  it  be, 
till  the  pale  king  of  terrors  oaiTies  me  to  another  world. "  He  turned 
\^U  eyes  awa^  from  the  Pruwjjpp  cwnp.  wd  rode  slowlj^  to  BRWt?!§n, 


THE  LETTERS.  2^1 

CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  LETTERS. 

A  FEW  hotirs  later  a  courier  rode  into  the  camp.  He  came  from 
Bautzen,  and  had  a  letter  from  the  Prince  of  Prussia  to  his  royal 
brother.  The  king  was  still  in  his  tent,  busily  engaged  in  looking 
over  the  army  list.  He  took  his  brother's  letter,  and,  opening  it 
with  evident  anger,  read  : 

"Your  majesty's  commands,  and  the  incidents  of  our  last  meet- 
ing, have  taught  me  that  I  have  lost  my  honor  and  my  reputation. 
As  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  this  causes  me  much 
sorrow,  but  no  humiliation.  I  am  convinced  that  I  was  not  actu- 
ated by  obstinacy,  and  that  I  did  not  follow  the  advice  of  incom- 
petent men.  All  the  generals  in  the  third  army  corps  commanded 
by  me,  will  testify  to  this.  I  consider  it  necessary  to  request  your 
majesty  to  have  my  conduct  investigated.  Your  majesty  would 
thereby  do  me  a  kindness.  I  have,  therefore,  no  right  to  count 
upon  it.  My  health  is  much  impaired  since  the  war.  I  have  with- 
drawn to  Bautzen  for  its  restoration,  and  have  requested  the  Duke 
of  Bevem  to  give  you  all  the  information  relative  to  the  army.  In 
spite  of  my  unhappiness,  my  daily  prayer  is,  and  shall  be,  that  every 
undertaking  of  your  majesty  shall  be  crowned  with  glory. 
"  Your  unhappy  brother, 

"  Augustus  William.  " 

The  king  read  this  letter  several  times ;  then  taking  up  his  pen, 
he  wrote  hastily : 

"  My  Deab  Brother  :  Your  improper  conduct  has  greatly  dis- 
turbed my  equanimity.  Not  my  enemies,  but  your  want  of  princi- 
ple, has  caused  all  these  disasters.  My  generals  are  not  to  be  ex- 
t  used.  They  have  either  given  you  bad  advice,  or  have  agreed  too 
readily  to  your  foolish  plans.  The  one  is  as  bad  as  the  other.  Your 
ears  are  accustomed  to  flattery,  my  brother.  Daun  did  not  flatter 
you,  and  you  now  see  the  consequences.  But  little  hope  remains. 
I  shall  commence  the  attack — if  we  do  not  conquer,  we  shall  die  to- 
gether. I  do  not  bewail  the  loss  of  your  heart,  but  rather  your  utter 
incapacity  and  want  of  judgment.  I  tell  you  this  plainly,  for  with 
one  who  has  perhaps  but  a  few  days  to  live,  there  is  no  use  of  de- 
ception. I  wish  you  more  happiness  than  has  fallen  to  my  lot,  and 
hope  that  your  misfortunes  and  disappointments  may  teach  you  to 
act  with  more  wisdom  and  judgment  where  matters  of  importance 
are  concerned.  Many  of  the  painful  events  I  now  look  forward  to, 
i  ascribe  to  you.     You  and  your  children  will  suflfer  from  their  re 


222       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY 

suits  much  more  than  myself.     Be  assured  that  I  have  always  loved 
you,  and  will  continue  to  do  so  until  my  death.     Your  brother, 

"  Frederick.  " 
When  the  king  had  finished  his  letter,  he  read  it  over.  "  I  can- 
not take  back  one  word  I  have  said, "  miirmured  he,  softly.  "  Were 
he  not  my  brother,  he  should  be  court- martialled.  But  history 
shall  not  have  to  relate  more  than  one  such  occurrence  of  a  Hohen- 
zollem.  Enough  family  dramas  and  tragedies  have  occurred  in  my 
reign  to  furnish  scandalous  material  for  future  generations ;  I  will 
not  add  to  them.  My  brother  can  withdraw  quietly  from  these 
scenes — he  can  pray  while  we  fight — he  can  cultivate  the  peaceful 
arts  while  we  are  upon  the  battle-field,  offering  up  bloody  sacrifices 
to  Mars.  Perhaps  we  will  succeed  in  gaining  an  honorable  peace  for 
Prussia,  and  then  Augustus  William  may  be  a  better  king  than  I 
have  been.     Prussia  still  clings  to  me — she  needs  me. " 

He  sealed  the  letter,  then  calling  his  valet,  ordered  him  to  send 
it  off  immediately.  As  he  disappeared,  the  king's  countenance  be- 
came once  more  clouded  and  disturbed.  "  Life  makes  a  man  very 
poor,"  said  he,  softly  ;  "the  longer  he  lives,  the  more  solitary  he  be- 
comes. How  rich  I  was  when  I  began  life — how  rich  when  I 
mounted  the  throne !  Possessing  many  friends,  sisters,  brothei-s, 
and  many  charming  illusions.  The  world  belonged  to  me  then, 
with  all  its  joy,  all  its  glory.  And  now?  Where  are  these  friends'; 
Lost  to  me,  either  by  death  or  inconstancy  !  Where  are  my  brothers, 
sisters?  Their  hearts  have  turned  from  me — their  love  has  grown 
cold!  Where  are  my  joyous  illusions?  Scattered  to  the  winds! 
Alas,  I  am  now  undeceived,  and  if  the  whole  world  seemed  at  one 
time  to  belong  to  me,  that  little  spot  of  earth,  paid  for  with  blood 
and  anguish,  is  no  longer  mine.  Every  illusion  but  one  has  been 
torn  from  my  heart — the  thirst  for  glory  still  remains.  I  have  bid 
adieu  to  love,  to  happiness,  but  I  still  believe  in  fame,  and  must  at 
least  have  one  laurel -wreath  upon  my  coffin.  May  death  then  strike 
me  at  his  will — the  sooner  the  better,  before  my  heart  has  become 
perfectly  hardened  !    And  I  feel  that  time  is  not  far  distant. " 

The  curtain  of  his  tent  was  at  this  moment  drawn  back,  and  hia 
secretary,  Le  Catt,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  during  his 
visit  to  Amsterdam,  entered  with  several  letters  in  his  hand.  The 
king  advanced  eagerly  to  meet  him. 

"Well,  Le  Catt,"  said  he,  "has  the  courier  come  from  Berlin?" 
"  Yes,  sire,  he  has  come, "  said  Le  Catt,  sighing,  "  but  I  fear  he 
brings  no  good  news. " 

"  No  good  news?    Has  the  enemy  forced  his  way  so  far?" 
"  An  enemy  has,  sire ;  but  not  the  one  your  majesty  is  thinking 
of!" 


THE  LETTERS.  223 

"How  know  you  what  enemy  I  mean?"  said  the  king,  impa- 
tiently.    "  Is  it  the  Russians,  or  the  French  ?" 

"None  of  your  mortal  enemies,  sire;  and  the  mourning  which 
now  reigns  in  Berlin  and  will  soon  reign  throughout  Prussia,  is 
caused  by  no  enemy  of  your  majesty  but  by  Providence. " 

The  king  looked  at  him  earnestly  for  a  moment.  "  I  understand, " 
said  he.     "Some  one  of  my  family  has  died  ;  is  it  not  so?" 

"  Yes,  sire  ;  your — " 

"Be  still!"  said  the  king,  sternly.  "I  do  not  yet  wish  to  know 
— I  have  not  the  strength  to  bear  it — wait  a  while. " 

Folding  his  hands  upon  his  breast,  he  paced  up  and  down  his 
tent -several  times,  laboring  hard  for  breath.  He  stood  still,  and 
leaning  against  the  window,  said :  "  Now,  Le  Catt,  I  can  endure 
any  thing  ;  speak — who  is  it?" 

"  Sire,  it  is  her  majesty. " 

"My  wife?"  interrupted  the  king. 

"  No,  sire  ;  her  majesty — " 

"My  mother!"  cried  the  king,  in  a  heart-broken  voice.  "My 
mother !" 

He  stood  thus  for  a  while,  with  his  hands  before  his  face,  his 
form  bowed  down  and  trembling  like  an  oak  swayed  by  a  storm. 
Tears  escaped  through  his  hands  and  fell  slowly  to  the  ground — 
groans  of  agony  were  wrung  from  him. 

Le  Catt  could  stand  it  no  longer ;  he  approached  the  king  and 
ventured  to  say  a  few  consoling  words. 

" Do  not  seek  to  comfort  me, "  said  the  king  ;  "you  do  not  know 
what  inexpressible  pain  this  loss  has  caused  me. " 

"Yes,  sire,  I  well  know,"  said  Le  Catt,  "for  the  queen-mother 
was  the  noblest,  most  gracious  princess  that  ever  lived.  I  can 
therefore  understand  your  sorrow. " 

"No,  you  cannot, "  said  the  king,  raising  his  pale,  tearful  coun- 
tenance. "  You  carry  your  sorrow  upon  your  lips — I  upon  my  heart. 
The  queen  was  the  best  of  women,  and  my  whole  land  may  well 
mourn  for  her.  It  will  not  be  forced  grief,  for  every  one  who  had 
the  happiness  to  approach  loved  and  admired  her  for  her  many 
virtues — for  her  great  kindness.  And  I  feel,  I  know,  that  sorrow 
for  the  ruin  of  Prussia  has  caused  her  death.  She  was  too  noble  a 
princess,  too  tender  a  mother,  to  outlive  Prussia's  destruction  and 
her  son's  misfortune. " 

"  But  your  majesty  knows  that  the  queen  was  suffering  from  an 
incurable  disease. " 

"  It  is  true  I  know  it, "  said  the  king,  sinking  slowly  upon  his 
camp-stool.  "  I  feared  that  I  might  never  see  her  again,  and  still 
tjiis  news  conjes  totally  unexpected; " 


224        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Your  majesty  will  overcome  this  great  grief  as  a  philosopher,  a 
hero." 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  said  the  king,  sadly,  "philosophy  is  a  solace 
in  past  and  future  sufferings,  but  is  utterly  powerless  for  present 
grief ;  I  feel  my  heart  and  strength  fail.  For  the  last  two  years  I 
have  resembled  a  tottering  wall.  Family  misfortune,  secret  pain, 
public  sorrow,  continual  disappointment,  these  have  been  my  nour- 
ishment. What  is  there  wanting  to  make  of  me  another  Job?  If  I 
wish  to  survive  these  distressing  circumstances,  I  must  become  a 
stoic.  For  I  cannot  bring  the  philosophy  of  Epicurus  to  bear  upon 
my  great  sorrows.  And  still, "  added  the  king,  the  dejected  look 
disappearing  from  his  countenance,  and  giving  place  to  one  of 
energy  and  determination,  "still,  I  will  not  be  overcome.  Were  all 
the  elements  to  combine  against  me,  I  will  not  fall  beneath  them. " 

"  Ah  1"  cried  Le  Catt,  "  once  more  is  my  king  the  hero,  who  will 
not  only  overcome  his  grief,  but  also  his  enemies. " 

"Grod  grant  that  you  are  a  true  prophet!"  cried  the  king,  earn- 
estly. "  This  is  a  great  era  ;  the  next  few  months  will  be  decisive 
for  Prussia  :  I  will  restore  her  or  die  beneath  her  ruins !" 

"  You  will  restore  !"  cried  Le  Catt,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  And  when  I  have  made  Prussia  great, "  said  the  king,  relapsing 
into  his  former  gloom,  "  my  mother  will  not  be  here  to  rejoice  with 
me.  Each  one  of  my  home-returning  soldiers  will  have  some  one — 
a  mother,  a  sweetheart — to  meet  them  with  tears  of  joy,  to  greet 
them  tenderly.     I  shall  be  alone. " 

"Your  people  will  advance,  gladly,  to  meet  you  ;  they  will  greet 
you  with  tears  of  joy. " 

"Ah,  yes,"  cried  the  king,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "they  will  ad- 
vance to  meet  me  joyfully ;  but,  were  I  to  die  the  same  day,  they 
would  cry  :  'Le  roi  est  mort — vive  le  roi!  '  and  would  greet  my  suc- 
cessor with  equal  delight.  There  is  nothing  personal  in  the  love  of 
a  people  to  its  sovereign ;  they  love  not  in  me  the  man,  but  the 
king.  But  my  mother  loved  not  the  king  the  warrior ;  she  loved 
her  son  with  her  whole  heart,  and  God  knows  he  had  but  that  one 
heart  to  trust  in.  Leave  me,  Le  Catt.  Seek  not  to  console  me. 
Soon  the  king  will  gain  the  mastery.  Now  I  am  but  the  son,  who 
wishes  to  be  alone  with  the  mother.  Go. "  Fearing  he  had  wounded 
Le  Catt,  he  pressed  his  hand  tenderly. 

Le  Catt  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  covered  it  with  kisses  and  tears. 
The  king  withdrew  it  gently,  and  signed  to  him  to  leave  the  room. 

Now  he  was  alone — alone  with  his  pain,  with  his  grief — alone 
with  his  mother.  And,  truly,  during  this  hour  he  was  but  th'' 
loving  son  ;  his  every  thought  was  of  his  mother  ;  he  conversed  wilt 
feer,  b?  wept  over  her ;  but,  as  his  sorrow  became  more  subdued,  b^ 


IN  THE  CASTLE  AT  DRESDEN.  225 

took  his  flute  from  the  table,  the  one  constant  companion  of  his  life. 
As  the  soft,  sweet  tones  were  wafted  through  the  tent,  he  seemed  to 
hear  his  mother  whispering  words  of  love  to  him,  to  feel  her  hal- 
lowed kiss  upon  his  brow.  And  now  he  was  king  once  more.  As 
he  heard  without  the  sound  of  trumpets,  the  beating  of  drums,  the 
loud  shouts  and  hurrahs  of  his  soldiers,  a  new  fire  burned  in  his 
eyes,  he  laid  his  flute  aside,  and  listened  for  a  time  to  the  joyous 
shouts;  then  raising  his  right  hand,  he  said:  "Farewell,  mother; 
you  died  out  of  despair  for  my  defeat  at  Collin,  but  I  swear  to  you 
I  will  revenge  your  death  and  my  defeat  tenfold  upon  my  enemies 
when  I  stand  before  them  again  in  battle  array.  Hear  me,  spirit  of 
my  mother,  and  give  to  your  son  your  blessing  I" 


CHAPTER    X. 

IN  THE  CASTLE  AT  DRESDEN, 

The  Queen  Maria  Josephine  of  Poland,  Princess  elect  of  Saxony, 
paced  her  room  violently  ;  and  with  deep  emotion  and  painful 
anxiety  she  listened  to  every  noise  which  interrupted  the  stillness 
that  surrounded  her. 

"  If  he  should  be  discovered, "  she  murmured  softly,  "  should  this 
letter  be  found,  all  is  betrayed,  and  I  am  lost. " 

She  shuddered,  and  even  the  paint  could  not  conceal  her  sudden 
pallor.  She  soon  raised  herself  proudly  erect,  and  her  eyes  resumed 
their  usual  calm  expression. 

"  Bah !  lost. "  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoidders,  "  who  will  dare 
to  seize  a  queen  and  condemn  her  for  fighting  for  her  honor  and  her 
country?  Only  the  insolent  and  arrogant  Margrave  of  Brandenburg 
could  have  the  temerity  to  insult  a  queen  and  a  woman  in  my  per- 
son, and  he,  thank  God,  is  crushed  and  will  never  be  able  to  rally. 
But  where  is  Schonberg, "  she  said,  uneasily  ;  "  if  he  does  not  come 
to-day,  all  is  lost — all !" 

Loud  voices  in  the  antechamber  interrupted  her ;  she  listened  in 
breathless  expectation.  "It  is  he,"  she  murmured,  "it  is  Schon- 
berg ;  the  officer  on  guard  forbids  his  entrance.  What  insults  I 
endure !  I  am  treated  as  a  prisoner  in  my  own  castle ;  I  am  even 
denied  the  right  of  seeing  my  own  servants. " 

She  ceased,  and  listened  again ;  the  voices  became  louder  and 
more  violent.  "  He  is,  apparently,  speaking  so  loudly  to  attract  my 
attention,"  she  said;  "I  will  go  to  his  relief."  She  crossed  the 
ghamber  hastily,  and  opened  the  door  leading  into  the  anterpoiB, 


226        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMLY. 

"What  means  this  noise?"  she  said,  angrily  ;  "how  dare  you  be 
guilty  of  such  unseemly  conduct?" 

Silence  followed  this  question.  The  two  gentlemen,  who  had 
just  exchanged  such  angry  words,  were  dumb,  approached  the 
queen,  and  bowed  profoundly. 

"I  beg  your  majesty's  forgiveness,"  said  the  Prussian  officer, 
"my  commander  ordered  me  this  morning  to  admit  no  one  until  he 
had  seen  your  highness  himself. " 

"I  wished  to  announce  to  your  majesty,"  said  Schonberg,  '"that 
I  had  returned  from  my  estate,  and  desired  the  favor  of  being  again 
received  into  your  service ;  this  gentleman  refused  to  allow  me  to 
enter. " 

The  queen  turned  upon  the  officer  with  an  expression  of  con- 
tempt. "Am  I  a  prisoner,  sir,  allowed  to  see  no  one  but  my 
jailer?" 

"  Your  majesty  favors  me  with  a  question  I  am  unable  to  answer, " 
said  the  officer;  "I  am  a  soldier;  and  must  obey  the  command  of 
those  above  me.     I  know  not  whether  your  majesty  is  a  prisoner. " 

The  queen  reddened  ;  she  felt  that,  in  the  excitement  of  passion, 
she  had  forgotten  her  rank  and  dignity. 

"  It  is  true, "  she  said,  "  it  is  not  for  you  to  answer  this  question. 
I  must  demand  a  reply  from  your  king.  You  are  but  a  machine, 
moved  by  foreign  power.  I  think  you  will  not  dare  to  keep  my 
servants  from  me  ; "  and,  without  allowing  the  confused  officer  time 
to  answer,  she  turned  to  the  chamberlain,  Baron  von  Schonberg. 
"  I  am  delighted  to  receive  you  again  ;  you  shall  resume  your  service 
immediately,  as  you  desire  it ;  follow  me  to  my  room,  I  have  an 
important  letter  to  dictate  to  you. " 

She  stepped  over  the  sill  of  the  door,  and  gave  the  chamberlain 
a  sign  to  follow  her ;  as  he  approached  the  door,  however,  the  officer 
stepped  before  him. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  in  a  pleading  tone  ;  "I  have  strict  orders 
to  admit  only  those  who  usually  surround  the  queen  ;  do  you  under- 
stand, sir,  to  admit  no  one  to  her  majesty  this  morning?  I  can 
make  no  exceptions. " 

"  I  belong  to  those  who  usually  surround  her  majesty, "  said  the 
chamberlain;  "I  have  had  an  eight  days'  leave  of  absence;  that 
cannot  make  an  exception  against  me. " 

"Baron  von  Schonberg,  did  I  not  order  you  to  resiune  your 
aervice,  and  to  follow  me?"  said  the  queen  ;  "  why  do  you  not  enter?" 

"Your  majesty  sees  that  I  am  prevented." 

"  Mercy,  your  highness,  mercy, "  pleaded  the  officer,  "  I  know  I 
»m  seemingly  wanting  in  reverence  toward  the  holv  person  of  tb^ 
queeD,  but  I  cannot  eict;  oth^r^ise. " 


IN  THE  CASTLE  AT  DRESDEN.  22? 

Maria  Josephine  looked  proud  and  commanding  ;  her  eyes  flashed 
angrily,  and,  with  a  loud  voice,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  I  command  you  to  allow  my  servant  to  enter !  do  you  hear? 
command  it  as  a  sovereign  !" 

Tlie  oflficer  stepped  back. 

"Go  in,  sir,  I  have  not  the  courage  to  withstand  this  command." 

For  a  moment  the  queen's  pale  face  crimsoned  with  joy,  but  she 
suppressed  her  emotion  immediately  and  motioned  the  chamberlain  ^ 
with  proud  dignity,  to  follow. 

Schonberg  passed  the  officer,  and  entered  the  room. 

"At  last,"  sighed  Maria  Josephine,  as  the  door  closed  behind  him 
— "  at  last  this  torture  is  at  an  end,  and  I  breathe  again.  Speak, 
baron — your  news!"  Exhausted,  she  fell  upon  the  sofa,  and  gazed 
breathlessly  at  the  chamberlain. 

" Before  speaking,  with  your  majesty's  permission,  I  will  see  if 
we  are  entirely  alone — if  no  one  is  listening. " 

He  stepped  softly  around  the  room,  and  searched  behind  the  cur- 
tains and  furniture  ;  then  went  to  the  door,  and  looked  through  the 
key- hole,  to  see  if  any  one  was  without.  He  saw  the  officer  sitting 
motionless,  at  the  other  end  of  the  anteroom.  Satisfied  with  this, 
he  was  about  to  open  the  other  door,  but  the  queen  called  him  back. 

"  That  is  unnecessary  ;  no  one  can  be  concealed  there.  Now  let 
me  hear  quickly  what  you  have  to  say. " 

"I  have  many  things  to  tell  you,"  said  the  chamberlain,  trium- 
phantly. "  All  our  undertakings  have  been  most  successful.  We 
may  hope  they  will  be  crowned  with  the  most  desirable  results." 

"Praise  to  God  and  the  holy  saints!"  murmured  the  queen. 
"  Speak,  speak  !  tell  me  all !" 

"  After  I  left  your  majesty,  eight  days  ago,  I  went^first  to  my 
estate,  which,  as  your  highness  knows,  lies  near  Bautzen,  and  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  King  of  Prussia's  camp.  Dis- 
guised as  a  peasant,  with  my  little  flock  of  sheep,  I  entered  the 
Prussian  camp  unchallenged.  I  wish  your  majesty  could  have  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  what  I  saw.  Your  royal  heart  would  have 
been  gladdened  at  the  sight  of  those  starved,  exhausted,  and  des- 
perate troops  which  Prince  Augustus  William  led  back  from  Zittau 
to  his  august  brother,  the  great  Frederick.  You  would  have  ac- 
knowledged with  delight  that  such  discouraged,  demoralized  troops 
could  no  longer  withstand  the  splendid  and  victorious  army  of  the 
confederates.  The  battle  of  Collin  dug  their  graves,  and  the  pass  of 
Gabel  made  their  coffins. " 

"And  the  Saxon  dragoons  decided  the  battle  of  Collin?"  said  the 
queen,  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  Go  on  !  tell  me  more.  Did  you  speak 
with  the  king's  chamberlain,  Anderson?" 


228       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  and  I  found  him  faithful.  I  gave  him  the 
diamond  ring  which  your  majesty  was  so  gracious  as  to  send  him. 
He  was  delighted  with  this  costly  present,  and  swore  he  would  let 
no  opportunity  pass  of  serving  you.  I  told  him  how  he  might  safely 
write  to  me.  He  will  inform  us  of  all  that  takes  place  in  the  Prus- 
sian camp,  and  of  all  the  important  movements  of  the  king. " 

"  You  are  convinced  of  his  integrity  ?"  said  the  queen. 

"  Entirely  convinced  ;  he  loves  money,  and  serves  us  for  his  own 
interests.     He  will  be  ready  for  any  act,  if  we  balance  it  with  gold. " 

The  eyes  of  the  queen  sparkled,  and  her  countenance  had  a  threat- 
ening and  passionate  expression ;  her  Spanish  blood  was  moved, 
and  rushed  in  fever  streams  to  her  heart. 

"Is  he  ready  for  any  act?"  she  repeated.  "Perhaps  we  could 
make  a  decisive  trial  of  his  willingness ;  but  of  that,  later — con- 
tinue. " 

"I  learned  from  Anderson,  that  King  Frederick  intends  to  force 
the  confederates  to  another  battle.  When  I  left  the  camp,  the  king 
had  distributed  rations  to  his  army,  and  was  to  leave  the  next  morn- 
ing, to  encoimter  Daun  and  Radasdy. " 

The  queen  laughed  mockingly. 

"  He  then  thirsts  for  a  second  Collin.  As  his  grave  is  open  and 
his  cofl^n  made,  he  wishes  to  get  the  Austrian  grave-diggers  to  bury 
him.     Well,  we  will  not  deny  him  this  last  service  of  love. " 

"After  leaving  the  Prussian  camp,"  continued  the  chamberlain, 
"I  threw  off  my  disguise,  and  hastened  with  post-horses  to  where 
Daun  and  Radasdy  were  quartered. " 

"  And  you  saw  them  ?" 

"  I  saw  them  ;  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  able  to  deliver  your 
majesty's  jetters  to  General  Radasdy,  and  I  can  now  give  your  high- 
ness the  general's  answer,  and  some  other  important  papers."  He 
drew  a  small  etui  from  his  bosom,  out  of  which  he  took  a  penknife ; 
then  taking  his  hat,  rij^d  off  the  gold  galloon,  cut  the  rim,  and 
drew  a  paper  from  between  the  fur  and  the  inner  lining,  which  he 
handed  to  the  queen,  with  a  profound  bow. 

While  the  queen  was  occupied  breaking  the  seal  and  reading  the 
letter,  the  chamberlain  was  busily  engaged  in  restoring  his  hat  to 
its  former  proportions.  The  queen's  pale  face  brightened  more  and 
more  as  she  read  ;  with  joy  and  triumph  she  glanced  from  the  paper 
at  the  chamberlain,  and  said,  with  a  brilliant  smile  : 

"You  are  really  a  messenger  of  peace ;  a  time  will  come  when  I 
can  better  reward  your  faithful  services  than  by  words.  I  beg  you 
to  open  that  door,  and  call  Father  Gviarini. " 

The  chamberlain  obeyed  her  command,  and  Father  Guarini 
entered.     He  greeted  Schonberg  with  a  gracious  nod,  then  fixed  his 


IN  THE  CASTLE  AT  DRESDEN.  229 

daxk  and  piercing  eyes  upon  the  queen,  who  arose  humbly  to  receive 
him. 

"  I  hope,  venerable  father,  that  you  have  heard  the  news,  brought 
by  our  faithful  baron?"  said  the  queen,  in  a  soft  voice. 

"I  have  heard!"  replied  the  Jesuit  father,  solemnly;  "I  have 
heard  that  God  has  delivered  these  heretics  into  our  hands.  "We  are 
the  chosen  people  to  free  the  world  of  these  blasphemous  adversaries 
of  the  Church. " 

"What  is  your  meaning?"  asked  the  queen,  with  apparent  sur- 
prise. 

Father  Guarini  looked  at  her  signi'ficantly  ;  a  cruel  smile  played 
upon  his  thin,  colorless  lips. 

"My  daughter,  we  understand  each  other  fully,"  said  he,  in  a 
soft,  low  voice  ;  "  soul  speaks  to  soul  in  such  a  crisis  as  this.  When 
the  baron  handed  you  this  letter,  when  he  told  you  that  the  cham- 
berlain of  the  King  of  Prussia  was  faithful  to  our  holy  cause,  ready 
for  any  act  you  might  approve,  a  door  separated  us ;  I  could  not 
look  upon  your  countenance,  and  yet,  my  daughter,  I  read  the  secret 
thoughts  of  your  heart.  I  saw  your  eyes  sparkle,  your  lips  smile, 
and  understood  your  holy  purpose. " 

The  queen  trembled,  and  stepped  shudderingly  back. 

"  Holy  father, "  she  murmured,  "  have  compassion  with  a  sinful 
thought,  which  I  suppressed  quickly,  and  which  I  will  never  listen 
to  again." 

"Why  do  you  call  it  a  sinful  thought?"  said  the  priest,  with  a 
diabolical  smile.  "All  weapons  are  blessed  and  made  holy  by  God, 
when  employed  against  heretics.  The  poison  of  the  hemlock  and 
the  opium-plant  is  part  of  God's  holy  creation.  He  made  them  as 
weapons  for  the  just  against  the  unjust,  and,  when  used  for  pious 
purposes,  they  are  sanctified  means  of  grace.  Be  not  ashamed  of 
your  great  thought,  my  daughter;  if  Anderson  is  faithful,  as  the 
chamberlain  asserts,  with  God's  help  we  will  soon  be  able  to  bring 
this  war  to  a  close,  and  crush  this  unbelieving  horde. " 

"Still,  I  pray  you  still,  my  father,"  murmured  the  queen;  "my 
whole  soul  shudders  at  this  frightful  suggestion  ;  let  us  not  speak  of 
this  again,  let  us  forget  it. " 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  it,  but  let  us  not  forget  it, "  murmured  the 
priest,  with  a  malicious  smile. 

The  queen  said  hastily :  "  Father,  such  fearful  weapons  are  not 
necessary  for  the  destruction  of  our  enemies.  Frederick  of  Prussia 
can  never  rally — he  stands  alone,  has  not  a  single  ally  in  Grermany. 
This  is  the  important  news  brought  me  by  the  baron,  which  I  now 
communicate  to  you,  W^e  have  succeeded  in  a  great  enterprise  ;  a 
B>i^bt^  work  has  been  C9Bipleted  h^  us  and  our  allies  in  the  cloistey 


230       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

of  Zeven.  This  has  been  achieved  by  our  ambassador,  the  pious 
Duke  of  Lynar,  and  we  will  triumph  in  a  glittering  and  bloodless 
victory.  Every  German  prince  who  has  heretofore  stood  b}'  the 
traitor  and  heretic,  Frederick  of  Prussia,  has,  at  the  command  and 
menace  of  the  emperor,  fallen  off  from  him,  and  dare  no  longer 
lend  him  help  or  influence.  The  men  of  Hesse,  of  Brunswick,  of 
Crotha,  who  were  allied  to  Prussia,  and  who  were  just  from  fighting 
with  the  Hanoverians  against  Soubise  and  Richelieu,  have  laid 
down  their  arms  and  returned  home.  They  have  solemnly  bound 
themselves  in  the  convention  of  the  cloister  of  Zeven  never  again 
to  bear  arms  for  the  heretical  and  rebellious  King  of  Prussia,  vi-ho 
is  excommunicated  by  the  Grerman  emperor  and  the  holy  Pope  at 
Rome.  The  contest  between  the  Hanoverians  and  our  French  ally  is 
ended,  and  a  cessation  of  hostilities  determined  upon.  Uncondi- 
tional peace  is  indeed  indefinitely  declared.  The  Hanoverians 
remain  inactive  on  the  Elbe  ;  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  leader  of  the 
English  troops,  has  returned  to  London,  *  and  his  adversary,  the 
Duke  de  Richelieu,  to  Paris.  The  French  troops  now  in  Germany, 
under  the  command  of  the  Prince  Soubise,  have  no  other  enemy  to 
attack  than  Frederick,  the  natural  enemy  of  us  all.  The  King  of 
Prussia,  who  stands  alone,  has  no  other  ally. " 

"No  ally  but  himself,"  interrupted  a  loud,  powerful  voice. 

The  queen  turned  and  saw  General  von  Fink,  the  Prussian  com- 
mander of  Dresden.  He  had  opened  the  door  noiselessly,  and  had 
heard  the  queen's  last  words. 

Maria  Josephine  paled  with  anger,  and  stepping  forward  to 
meet  him,  with  head  erect,  she  looked  as  if  she  would  trample  him 
imder  foot. 

"  Sir, "  she  said,  scarcely  able  to  control  her  passion,  and  at  the 
same  time  trembling  with  terror,  "who  gave  you  permission  to 
enter  this  room  ?" 

"My  sovereign,  the  King  of  Prussia,"  said  the  general,  placing 
himself  before  her  with  stiff  military  courtesy.  "I  come  not  from 
idle  curiosity,  but  on  important  business,  and  your  majesty  must 
pardon  me  if  you  find  it  disagreeable. " 

He  made  a  sign  toward  the  door,  and  immediately  an  officer  and 
four  soldiers  appeared  at  the  threshold.  The  commander  pointed  to 
the  chamberlain,  Von  Schonberg,  who,  pale  and  trembling,  endeav- 
ored to  conceal  himself  behind  the  wide  dress  of  the  queen. 

*  When  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  returned  to  London,  after  the  convention  at 
the  cloister  of  Zeven,  his  father,  whose  favorite  he  had  been  up  to  this  time,  re- 
ceived him  with  great  coldness,  and  said  before  all  his  ministers:  "Here  is  my 
5on  who  has  ruined  me  and  disgraced  himself. "  The  duke  had  to  resign  all  his 
honors,  and  died  a  few  years  later,  despised  by  the  whole  nation. 


IN  THE  CASTLE  AT  DRESDEN.  ^Sl 

"Arrest  that  man,  and  take  him  off  !"  said  the  general. 

Schonberg  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  disappeared  behind  the 
satin  robe  of  the  queen. 

"  What,  sir  1  you  dare  to  force  yourself  into  my  room,  and  to 
arrest  my  servant?"  cried  the  queen,  angrily. 

The  general  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  We  are  living  in  perilous  times,  and  every  man  must  defend 
himself  from  his  enemies.  'Tis  true  your  chamberlain  sold  some 
good  sheep  to  our  army,  but  it  appears  to  have  been  a  fraudulent 
transaction ;  for  this  reason,  I  arrest  him,  and  send  him  to  Berlin 
for  trial.  Tliere  it  will  be  difficult  for  him  to  carry  on  his  corre- 
spondence with  the  traitorous  chamberlain  of  the  king." 

The  general  ceased  speaking,  and  gazing  at  the  pale,  disturbed 
group  before  him,  enjoyed  their  horror  and  consternation  for  a 
moment. 

The  queen  was  greatly  embari-assed,  and  pressed  her  lips  firmly 
together  to  suppress  a  cry  of  terror.  By  her  side  stood  Father 
Guarini,  whose  face  had  assumed  a  livid  palloi*,  and  whose  dark 
eyes  were  fixed  in  bitter  hatred  upon  the  general.  Behind  the  queen 
the  terrified  face  of  the  chamberlain  was  seen,  his  insignificant 
figure  being  entirely  concealed  by  the  queen's  robes. 

"  Baron  von  Schonberg, "  said  General  Fink,  "  I  order  you  to  come 
forward  and  to  submit  to  your  arrest.  Out  of  respect  to  her  majesty 
the  queen,  you  will  be  quiet.  I  should  be  unfortunately  forced  to 
act  with  violence  if  you  do  not  yield  without  a  sti-uggle. " 

The  chamberlain  advanced  with  dignity,  bowing  profoundly  to 
the  queen.     He  said,  in  a  trembling  voice  : 

"  I  must  beg  your  majesty  graciously  to  dismiss  me  from  your 
service.  I  must  obey  this  gentlemen,  who,  as  it  appears,  is  master 
in  the  castle. " 

The  queen  was  for  a  moment  speechless ;  her  voice  was  lost,  and 
her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.     She  said,  after  a  long  pause  : 

"  Will  you  rob  me  of  my  faithful  servant  ?  You  dragged  Baroness 
Brtihl  and  Countess  Ogliva  to  Warsaw,  and  now  you  will  deprive 
me  of  the  services  of  this  tried  and  constant  friend." 

"I  obey  the  commands  of  my  king, "  said  the  general,  "and  I  be- 
lieve your  majesty  must  see  the  justice  of  this  arrest.  Had  the 
baron  been  captured  in  camp,  he  would  have  been  shot  at  once  as  a 
spy.  I  arrest  him  here  and  send  him  to  Berlin,  that  he  may  defend 
himself  against  the  charge  of  being  a  traitor." 

The  queen  breathed  heavily,  she  had  regained  her  composure; 
turning  to  the  chamberlain  she  said,  in  a  voice  softer  and  kinder 
than  had  ever  been  heard  from  her  before : 

"Go,  my  friend,  and  when  your  loyalty  is  called  treason  by  our 


233       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

enemies,  do  not  forget  that  your  queen  is  thinking  of  you  with 
gratitude,  and  praying  for  you  to  our  heavenly  Father. " 

She  offered  the  chamberlain  her  small,  white  hand ;  he  sank 
upon  his  knees,  and  covered  it  with  his  tears  and  kisses. 

"Go,  my  son,"  said  Father  Guarini,  laying  his  hand  upon  Schon- 
berg's  head — "go  ;  the  Lord  has  chosen  you  as  a  blessed  martyr  for 
our  just  and  holy  cause.  The  Lord  will  be  with  you,  and  the  holy 
mother  Church  will  pray  for  you. " 

"  I  go,  my  father — may  it  be  granted  me  to  die  for  my  queen  !" 

Turning  to  the  general,  he  delivered  up  his  sword  rather  tragi- 
cally, and  declared  himself  ready  to  depart. 

The  commandant  signed  to  the  officer. 

"  Conduct  this  gentleman  to  the  carriage,  and  send  him  with  a 
•ufficient  guard  to  Berlin. " 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  TE  DEUM. 

The  queen  looked  sadly  after  the  chamberlain  ;  when  he  ha4  dis- 
appeared, she  turned  to  the  general. 

"  I  now  hope, "  said  she,  "  that  you  have  fulfilled  your  orders, 
and  that  I  will  be  permitted  to  have  my  apartments  to  myself. " 

"I  beg  yovir  majesty's  pardon, "  said  the  general,  bowing  respect- 
fully, "but  as  yet  I  have  fulfilled  but  the  smallest  portion  of  my 
master's  commands. " 

"How?  is  there  still  some  one  here  whom  you  wish  to  arrest?" 
said  the  queen. 

"  No,  noble  lady,  but  some  one  I  wish  to  warn  !" 

"You  are,  without  doubt,  speaking  of  me,  general?"  said  the 
priest,  quietly. 

"Yes,  sir,  of  you.  I  wish  to  warn  you  not  to  occupy  your  pious 
thoughts  with  that  very  worldly  thing  called  politics,  and  to  request 
you  to  instruct  the  members  of  your  Church  in  religion,  in  Chris- 
tian love  and  kindness,  and  not  to  lure  them  to  murder  and 
treachery. " 

The  priest  shrugged  his  shoulders  ;  a  contemptuous  smile  played 
about  his  small,  thin  lips. 

"The  words  'religion  and  Christian  love'  sound  strangely  in  the 
mouth  of  a  Prussian  warrior.  I  decline  receiving  any  advice  from 
you.  I  have  no  fear  of  you  or  of  your  superiors  I  I  am  subject  only 
to  Qod  and  the  Pope  1" 


THE  TE  DETJM.  233 

**  That  may  be  in  your  own  country,  but  not  in  the  King  of  Prus- 
eia's, "  answered  General  Fink,  quietly.  "  There  every  one  is  sub- 
ject to  the  law ;  no  title,  no  clerical  gown  protects  the  criminal. 
Two  days  ago,  a  spy  was  discovered  in  the  Prussian  camp,  who  was 
a  priest;  he  was  himg  like  any  other  spy,  although  at  the  last 
moment,  hoping  to  save  his  life,  he  exclaimed  that  he  was  a  friend 
of  Father  Guarini,  the  court  confessor.  His  majesty  the  King  of 
Prussia  commissioned  me  to  impart  to  you  the  death  of  your  friend. " 

"  From  my  heart  I  thank  you  for  so  doing, "  said  the  priest.  "  I 
shall  have  masses  read  for  my  friend,  of  whom  you  have  made  a 
nfiartyr. " 

The  queen  gazed  at  him  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  Oh,  my  father, " 
said  she,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  noble  example  ;  it  shall  enable  me, 
in  spite  of  threats  and  insults,  not  to  deny  the  holy  cause  and  the 
friends  who  have  suffered  for  it.  And  now,  general,  I  hope  your 
commissions  are  fulfilled,  and  that  you  will  take  your  leave. " 

"  I  hope  your  majesty  will  believe  that  I  would  not  venture  to 
remain,  were  I  not  compelled  by  the  commands  of  my  king.  I  have 
to  request  your  majesty  to  listen  while  I  read  aloud  some  letters, 
some  historical  documents,  which  may  possibly  interest  your  high- 
ness." 

"  You  can  read, "  said  the  queen.  "  As  my  ears  do  not  belong  to 
the  King  of  Prussia,  it  lies  with  me  to  listen  or  not,  as  I  please. " 
She  sank  gently  upon  the  divan,  signing  to  the  priest  to  remain 
beside  her. 

"I  flatter  myself  that  I  will  have  your  majesty's  attention,"  said 
the  general,  withdrawing  to  the  nearest  window  and  opening  a 
]>ackage  of  letters.  "  The  first  relates  to  an  extremely  amusing  occur- 
rence, which  my  master,  knowing  that  France  was  your  ally, 
imagined  would  interest  you.  Your  highness  is  aware  that  Prince 
Soubise  is  a  brave  soldier.  This  is  Madame  Pompadom-'s  opinion  ; 
it  must,  therefore,  be  true.  About  a  week  ago  this  brave  prince 
determined  to  rest  for  a  while  from  his  heroic  deeds,  and  gave  the 
same  privilege  to  a  large  portion  of  his  army.  Tlie  general,  accom- 
panied by  his  staff  and  eight  thousand  soldiers,  then  entered  that 
lovely  little  spot,  called  Gotha,  to  visit  the  talented  and  princely  duke 
and  duchess.  He  and  his  staff  were  received  by  them  with  great 
honor ;  magnificent  preparations  were  forthwith  made  for  a  splendid 
dinner  to  welcome  the  prince  who,  happily,  was  not  only  fond  of 
laurels,  but  also  of  good  eating.  Dinner  was  served,  the  French 
generals  had  finished  their  toilete.  Prince  Soubise  had  given  the 
duchess  his  arm  to  lead  her  to  her  seat,  when  a  loud  cry  of  terror 
was  heard  from  without,  'The  Prussians  are  at  the  gates !'  Prince 
Soubise  dropped  the  arm  of  the  duchess  ;  through  the  Paris  rouge 
16 


234       ITJEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

so  artistically  put  on,  the  paleness,  which  now  covered  hia  face^ 
could  not  be  seen.  The  doors  leading  to  the  dining-saloon  were 
thrown  open,  making  visible  the  sparkling  glass,  the  smoking 
dishes,  the  rare  service  of  gold  and  silver ;  the  generals  of  the 
prince  now  hastened  forward  and  confirmed  the  wild  rumor.  Yes ; 
and  rumor,  for  once,  was  true.  General  Seidlitz  was  there  with 
fifteen  hundred  brave  cavalrymen.  The  French  are  noted  for  their 
politeness,  and  it  did  not  fail  them  upon  this  occasion.  Without 
a  word,  Prince  Soubise  and  his  eight  thousand  men  made  room  for 
General  Seidlitz  and  his  fifteen  hundred,  and  hastened  from  the 
ducal  palace.  Before  the  rich  dishes  had  time  to  cool,  General 
Seidlitz  and  his  stafif  were  seated  at  the  table,  enjoying  the  magnifi- 
cent dinner  prepared  for  the  French  generals.  Many  prisoners, 
many  spoils  were  taken  afterward.  Not  that  Pince  Soubise  had  not 
taken  all  his  soldiers  with  him,  but  there  was  another  small  army 
by  which  the  French  troops  are  always  accompanied.  These,  the 
lackeys,  valets,  cooks,  hair-dressers,  ballet-dancers,  actresses, 
priests,  etc. ,  etc. ,  were  not  able  to  run  as  fast  as  the  French  soldiers. 
The  spoils  consisted  in  the  equipages  of  the  prince  and  his  staff,  in 
which  were  boxes  and  chests  containing  precious  things,  their  large 
chests  full  of  delightful  perfumes  and  hair-oils,  trunks  full  of  wigs, 
dressing-gowns,  and  parasols.  There  were  several  learned  parrots 
who  had  a  leaning  to  politics,  and  who  exclaimed  continually: 
'  Vi^}e  les  Frangais  !  A  has  les  Prussiens  ! '  But  the  kind-hearted  Gen- 
eral Seidlitz  did  not  wish  to  deprive  the  French  army  of  the  neces- 
sities of  life ;  he  therefore  sent  them  their  valets,  cooks,  hair-dressers, 
actresses,  priests,  etc.  The  perfumes  and  hair-oils  he  gave  to  his 
own  soldiers." 

"I  trust  you  have  finished,"  said  the  queen,  playing  listlessly 
with  her  fan. 

"Ah,  your  majesty  has  then  honored  me  by  listening?"  said 
General  Fink,  smiling. 

The  queen  preserved  a  dignified  silence. 

The  general  continued  reading  :  "After  long  deliberation.  Prince 
Soubise  concluded  he  had  carried  his  politeness  too  far  in  vacating 
the  ducal  palace  to  the  Prussians ;  he  determined,  therefore,  to  go 
after  his  perfumes,  hair-oils,  dressing-gowns,  wigs,  etc.,  etc.,  and 
drive  the  Prussians  from  Gotha.  Prince  von  Hildburghausen  joined 
him  with  his  troops.  Thus  the  French  advanced  to  Gotha,  secure 
and  confident  of  success.  But  to  their  terror  they  found  before  the 
city  not  two  Prussian  regiments,  as  they  had  expected,  but  what 
seemed  to  them  the  entire  Prussian  army  arranged  in  line  of  battle, 
and  in  such  large  numbers  that  for  miles  around  the  hills  were  cov- 
ered with  them.     This  was  so  unexpected  to  the  French  generals 


THE  TE  DEUM.  235 

that  they  determined  to  retreat  for  a  while,  until  they  had  recovered 
from  their  surprise.  They  withdrew,  leaving  the  field  to  the  Prus- 
sians. Had  they  not  withdrawn  so  hastily,  they  would  soon  have 
seen  that  the  Prussian  army  consisted  only  of  fifteen  hundred, 
which,  thanks  to  General  Seidlitz's  strategy,  presented  a  very  im- 
posing view.  Thus  Seidlitz  gained  the  day  without  firing  a  shot — 
not  by  the  troops  who  were  present,  but  by  those  who  were  supposed 
to  be  present. " 

"I  have  had  enough  of  this,"  said  the  queen,  rising.  "I  am 
weary  of  listening  to  your  witty  stories.  The  King  of  Prussia  may 
triumph  for  a  while — he  may  jest  over  his  lost  battles— but  the  hour 
of  his  misfortune  is  at  hand.  God,  who  is  just — who  thrusts  the 
arrogant  and  haughty  to  the  groimd — will  also  punish  him,  and  give 
victory  to  the  just  cause.  The  battle  of  Collin  was  for  Frederick  the 
Second  the  first  proof  of  God's  anger,  and  now  with  increasing 
strength  His  mighty  arm  will  be  raised  against  him. " 

"  I  am  aware  that  these  are  your  majesty's  sentiments, "  said  the 
general,  smiling;  "and  my  master  is  as  well  informed.  I  think 
they  were  stated  in  almost  the  same  words  in  letters  which  your 
majesty  wrote  to  the  Austrian  general,  Nadasky. " 

The  queen  fell  back  upon  her  seat  trembling,  and  a  deep  red 
suffused  her  countenance.  Even  Father  Guarini  showed  by  the 
quivering  of  his  lip  and  his  sudden  paleness,  that  the  conversation 
was  now  taking  an  agitating  turn. 

"What  do  you  know  of  my  letters  to  Nadasky?"  said  the  queen, 
breathlessly.     "  Who  says  I  have  written  to  him  ?" 

"Your  own  hand,  gracious  queen,"  answered  the  general. 
"While  the  king,  my  noble  sovereign,  was  in  Bernstadt,  he  was 
told  that  General  Nadasky  was  at  Ostriz,  and  sent  General  von 
Werner  after  him.  Nadasky  fled,  but  his  baggage  was  captured, 
and  amongst  his  letters  this  one  from  your  majesty  was  discovered. " 
And  he  held  up  the  letter  in  question  before  the  queen,  to  convince 
her  of  its  authenticity. 

Maria  Josephine  endeavored  to  tear  it  from  him,  but  the  general 
was  too  quick  for  her. 

"  By  command  of  my  master,  this  letter  is  to  be  returned  to  you, 
but  upon  one  condition. " 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  the  queen,  faintly. 

"  I  am  to  read  to  your  majesty  a  few  sentences  from  it,  selected 
by  the  King  of  Prussia  himself. " 

"  And  all  my  letters  shall  then  be  returned  to  me?" 

"  All,  your  majesty. " 

"You  can  read,"  said  the  queen,  seating  herself. 

General  Fink  approached  the  window  by  which  he  bad  been 


236        FREDERIQK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Btanding  before,  and  looked  out  for  a  few  moments.  Some  one, 
perhaps,  had  passed  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  for  he  bowed 
several  times  and  raised  his  hand  as  if  he  were  beckoning.  After 
this  intermission,  at  which  the  queen  and  her  confessor  had  looked 
in  amazement,  he  opened  the  letter  and  commenced  to  read.  ^ 

It  was  a  demand  from  Queen  Maria  Josephine  to  the  Austrian 
general  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  ruin  their  common  enemy.  "  If  we 
are  energetic, "  continued  the  general,  reading  in  a  loud  voice,  "it 
will  soon  be  done.  At  the  battle  of  Collin,  God  laid  his  mark  upon 
Frederick  ;  Prussia  will  have  no  more  victories  ;  her  arrogant  ruler 
has  sung  his  last  Te  Deum. " 

At  this  moment  the  bells  of  the  nearest  church  commenced  their 
solemn  chimes,  and  from  the  fort  behind  the  castle  the  thunder  of 
cannon  was  heard.  The  queen  rose  from  her  seat  and  rushed  to  the 
window. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  said  she,  breathlessly.  "Why 
these  bells?    Why  this  cannon?    What—" 

The  renewed  thimder  of  cannon  dro^vned  her  words.  She  threw 
open  the  window,  and  now  all  the  church  bells  were  joined  in  one 
harmonious  chant.  From  beneath  the  queen's  windows  there  arose 
a  slow,  solemn  hymn,  and  as  if  borne  aloft  by  invisible  spirits,  the 
words  "  Te  Deum  laudamus"  were  heard  by  the  queen.  Her  eyes 
sparkled.     "For  whom  is  this  Te  Deiim?"  said  she,  breathlessly. 

"  It  is  for  my  master. "  said  General  Fink,  solemnly — "  for  the 
King  of  Prussia,  who  at  Rossbach,  with  twenty  thousand  men,  has 
gained  a  victory  over  sixty  thousand  French  soldiers. " 

A  cry  of  rage,  and  Maria  Josephine  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

CAMP   SCENE. 

It  was  a  cold  winter  day,  and  in  the  Prussian  camp  at  Newmark 
every  one  was  occupied  making  fires. 

"  Let  us  get  a  great  deal  of  wood, "  said  a  sprightly-looking,  slen- 
der young  soldier,  to  his  comrades  ;  "  our  limbs  must  not  be  stiflF  to- 
day. I  think  to-morrow  all  will  go  oflf  bravely,  and  we  will  prepare 
a  strong  soup  for  the  Austrians. " 

"  And  instead  of  the  noodles,  we  will  send  them  cannon-balls, " 
said  a  comrade,  standing  near  him.  "  But  see  here,  brother,  as  we 
are  not  going  to  fight  this  evening,  I  think  we  shoulld  make  use  of 
the  time  and  cook  a  soup  for  ourselves.  When  we  have  wood  enough 
t9V  »  good  fire,  we  will  s^t  the  ketitl©  over  It,  »nd  the  best  of  j>»Bt;lm«?8 


CAMP  SCENE.  S3? 

will  be  ready.  Shall  we  do  it,  comrades?  Every  man  a  groschen, 
and  Charles  Henry  Buschman  to  cook  the  noodles. " 

"  Yes,  Buschman  must  cook  the  noodles ;  no  one  imderstands  it 
so  well  as  he.  Charles  Henry  Buschman  !  AMiere  hides  the  fellow  ? 
He  is  generally  sticking  to  Fritz  Kober,  and  they  are  chatting  to- 
gether as  if  they  were  lovers.  Buschman  !  Charles  Henry  Busch- 
man !    Where  are  you?" 

"  Here  I  am !"  cried  a  bright,  fresh  voice,  and  a  slender  youth, 
belonging  to  Prince  Henry's  regiment,  stepped  forward  and  joined 
them.     "  Who  calls  me?— what  do  you  want?" 

"  We  want  you  to  cook  noodles  for  us,  Buschman ;  every  man 
pays  a  groschen,  and  eats  to  his  heart's  content.  You  shall  have 
them  for  nothing,  because  you  prepare  them. " 

"I  will  have  nothing  that  I  don't  pay  for,"  said  Charles  Henry, 
proudly  ;  "  I  can  pay  as  well  as  the  rest  of  you,  and  perhaps  I  have 
more  money  than  all  of  you  ;  for  while  you  are  drinking,  smoking, 
and  playing,  I  put  my  groschens  aside  for  a  rainy  day. " 

"  Yes,  that  is  true ;  Buschman  is  the  most  orderly,  the  most  in- 
dustrious of  us  all,"  said  Fritz  Kober,  as  he  nodded  lovingly  to 
his  young  friend.  "  He  does  not  drink,  or  smoke,  or  play  ;  and,  I 
can  tell  you,  he  sews  like  a  woman.  He  mended  a  shirt  for  me  to- 
day. A  ball  had  passed  through  it  at  Rossbach,  making  a  hole  in 
the  left  sleeve.  I  tell  you,  the  shirt  looks  as  if  a  clever  woman  had 
mended  it. " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  pity  he  isn't  one, "  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  with  a 
merry  laugh ;  "  perhaps  you  have  a  sister  at  home,  Henry,  whom 
you  could  give  to  Kober. " 

"No,  comrade,"  said  Charles  Henry,  sadly;  "I  have  neither 
father,  mother,  sister,  nor  brother.  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  and 
have  no  other  friend  but  ray  comrade,  Fritz  Kober.  Will  you  not 
give  him  to  me,  comrades?  Will  you  tease  him  because  he  is  the 
friend  of  a  poor,  young  fellow,  against  whom  you  have  nothing  to 
say  except  that  he  is  just  seventeen  years  old,  and  has  no  beard,  and 
his  voice  a  little  thin,  not  able  to  make  as  much  noise  as  youi*self  ? 
Promise  me  that  you  will  not  laugh  at  Fritz  a^ain  because  he  is  kind 
to,  and  loves  a  poor,  forsaken  boy.  If  you  tease  him,  he  will  be- 
come desperate  and  run  off  from  me,  and  then,  when  I  fall  in  battle, 
he  will  not  close  my  eyes  as  he  has  promised  to  do. " 

"  I  will  never  run  away  from  you,  darling  brother, "  said  Fritz 
Kober.  "  We  two  shall  stay  together  in  camp  and  in  battle.  You 
have  won  me  with  your  soft,  black  eyes ;  they  remind  me  of  those 
of  my  good,  faithful  Phylax. " 

"Well,  well,  Fritz  shall  do  as  he  pleases,"  said  one  of  the  boy  a; 
"  but  enough  with  our  chatting,  let  us  seek  the  wood  for  our  fire. " 


238       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Wood,  wood,  let  us  seek  wood, "  cried  all,  gayly,  and  the  happy 
troop  separated  on  all  sides.  Only  Charles  Henry  remained  to  pre- 
pare the  fire.  With  busy  haste  he  took  the  kettle,  which  the  soldiers 
had  dragged  near,  ran  to  the  neighboring  market  and  bought  a 
groschen  worth  of  lard  to  make  the  noodles  savory,  then  hastened 
back  to  cut  the  bacon  and  mix  it  with  the  noodles.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  returned  empty-handed — no  wood  was  to  be  found ;  the 
soldiers,  who  had  searched  before  them,  had  taken  it  all. 

"It  would  be  horrible  not  to  have  noodles  this  evening,"  said 
Fritz  Kober,  furiously.  "  Who  knows  but  they  may  be  the  last  we 
shall  eat  in  this  world?  The  balls  may  take  our  heads  off  to-morrow, 
and  we  never  could  eat  Charles  Henry's  noodles  again." 

"What  you  can  do  to-day  never  put  off  until  to-morrow,"  cried 
one  of  the  soldiers.  "We  must  eat  noodles  to-day,  and  we  must 
have  wood,  even  if  we  have  to  steal  it  from  the  devil's  kitchen." 
And,  as  he  turned  around,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  little  hut  which  stood 
on  the  other  side  of  the  camp.  "  Boys, "  he  cried,  gleefully,  "  do  you 
see  that  hut?" 

"Certainly  ;  that  hut  is  the  king's  quarters." 

"  I  am  willing  the  king  should  occupy  the  hut ;  but  it  is  covered 
with  wood,  and  he  does  not  need  that.  Come,  boys,  we  will  have 
wood  to  cook  our  noodles. " 

With  a  hurrah  they  started  forward  to  the  old  forsaken  shep- 
herd's hut  in  which  the  king  had  taken  refuge.  They  climbed  the 
rook  as  nimblj'  as  cats,  and  now  the  old  boards  cracked  and  groaned 
and  flew  in  every  direction,  and  were  received  with  shouts  of  joy  by 
the  surrounding  soldiers.  Suddenly  a  guard  officer  stepped  from  the 
hut,  and  saw  with  horror  its  destniction  ;  he  ordered  the  soldiers  to 
lay  the  boards  as  they  had  found  them,  and  to  go  off  at  once.  The 
soldiers  mocked  at  him,  and  continued  at  their  work  quietly. 

"We  are  going  to  eat  noodles, "  they  said,  "common  noodles,  of 
meal  and  lard,  that  we  may  have  the  courage  to  swallow  iron  noodles 
to-morrow.  To  cook  noodles,  we  need  wood.  We  find  it  here,  and 
we  shall  take  it. " 

"  What !"  cried  the  oflScer,  "  I  forbid  it,  and  you  refuse  to  obey  ?— 
Sentinels,  forward !" 

The  four  guards,  who,  until  now,  had  walked  quietly  to  and  frc 
before  the  hut,  placed  themselves  at  the  door  and  shouldered  arms. 

"Fire  at  the  first  one  who  dares  to  touch  another  piece  of  wood," 
commanded  the  officer.  But  the  wanton  soldiers  paid  no  attention 
to  this  order ;  they  regarded  it  as  an  empty  threat. 

"  Fire, "  cried  one,  laughing,  "  fire  is  just  what  we  want — without 
fire,  no  noodles  ;  and  to  make  fire  we  must  have  wood." 

"  Whew  I  I  have  a  big  splint>er  in  my  finger, "  cried  another  sol- 


CAMP  SCENE.  239 

dier,  who  was  on  the  roof,  and  had  just  broken  oflf  a  plank  ;  "  I  must 
draw  it  out  and  put  it  back,  mustn't  I,  lieutenant?" 
-    At  this  question  the  gay  group  broke  into  a  loud  laugh ;  but  it 
was  interrupted  by  the  angry  words  of  the  officer. 

Suddenly  a  mild  voice  asked:  "What  is  the  matter?"  At  the 
first  sound  of  this  voice  the  soldiers  seemed  dismayed ;  they  stopped 
their  work,  and  their  merry  faces  became  earnest  and  thoughtful. 
Stiff  and  motionless  they  remained  on  the  roof  awaiting  their  pun- 
ishment ;  they  knew  that  voice  only  too  well,  they  had  heard  it  in 
the  thunder  of  battle.  The  king  repeated  his  question.  The  officer 
approached  him. 

"Sire,  these  dragoons  are  tearing  the  roof  from  your  majesty's 
quarters,  all  my  threats  are  useless  ;  therefore  I  ordered  the  sentinels 
forward." 

"What  do  you  want  with  the  sentinels?"  asked  the  king. 

"  To  fire  amongst  them,  if  they  do  not  desist. " 

"Have  you  tried  kindness?"  said  the  king,  sternly;  "do  you 
think,  on  the  day  before  a  battle,  I  have  soldiers  to  spare,  and  you 
may  shoot  them  down  because  of  a  piece  of  wood  ?" 

The  officer  murmured  a  few  confused  words  ;  but  the  king  paid 
no  attention  to  him ;  he  looked  up  at  the  soldiers  sitting  stiff  and 
motionless  upon  the  roof. 

"Listen,  dragoons,"  said  the  king  ;  "if  you  takeoff  my  roof,  the 
snow  will  fall  in  my  bed  to-night,  and  you  do  not  wish  that,  do 
you?" 

"No,  we  do  not  wish  it,  sire, "  said  Fritz  Kober, ashamed, slipping 
softly  from  the  roof  ;  the  others  followed  his  example,  and  prepared 
to  be  off,  giving  melancholy  glances  at  the  wood  lying  on  the  ground. 
The  king  looked  thoughtfully  after  them,  and  murmured,  softly, 
"Poor  fellows,  I  have  deprived  them  of  a  pleasure. — Halloo,  dra- 
goons, "  he  cried  aloud,  "  listen  !" 

The  soldiers  looked  back,  frightened  and  trembling. 

"  Tell  me, "  said  the  king,  "  what  use  were  you  going  to  make  of 
the  wood?" 

"  Cook  noodles,  sire, "  said  Fritz  Kober ;  "  Henry  Buschman 
promised  to  cook  noodles  for  us,  and  the  bacon  is  already  cut ;  but 
we  have  no  wood." 

"  Well,  if  the  bacon  is  cut, "  said  the  king,  smiling,  "  and  if  Henry 
Buschman  has  promised  to  make  the  noodles,  he  must  certainly  keep 
his  word  ;  take  the  wood  away  with  you. " 

"Hurrah !  long  life  to  our  king  and  to  our  good  Fritz  Kober," 
cried  the  soldiers,  and,  collecting  the  wood,  they  hastened  away. 

The  king  stepped  back,  silently,  into  the  small,  low  room  of  the 
hut-    AJoije,  there  orice  inpre  the  smile  disappeared,  and  his  cQunte' 


240       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

nance  became  sad  and  anxious.  He  confessed  to  himself  what  he 
had  never  admitted  to  friend  or  confidant,  that  it  was  a  daring  and 
most  dangerous  undertaking  to  meet  the  Austrian  army  of  seventy 
thousand  with  his  thirty-three  thousand  men. 

"And  should  I  fail, "  said  the  king,  thoughtfully,  "and  lead  these 
brave  troops  to  their  death  without  benefit  to  my  country — should 
they  die  an  unknown  death — should  we  be  conquered,  instead  of 
conquering!  Oh,  the  fortune  of  battles  lies  in  the  hands  of  Provi- 
dence ;  the  wisest  disposition  of  troops,  the  most  acute  calculations 
are  brought  to  naught  by  seeming  accident.  Should  I  expose  my 
army  to  the  fearful  odds,  should  I  hazard  so  many  lives  to  gratify 
my  ambition  and  my  pride?  My  generals  say  it  will  be  wiser  not 
to  attack,  but  to  wait  and  be  attacked.  Oh,  Winterfeldt,  Winter- 
feldt,  were  you  but  here,  you  would  not  advise  this,  not  you  I  Why 
have  you  been  taken  from  me,  my  friend?  Why  have  you  left  me 
alone  among  my  enemies?  I  can  find,  perhaps,  resources  against 
my  enemies,  but  I  will  never  find  another  Winterfeldt. "  * 

The  king  leaned  his  head  upon  his  breast,  and  tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks. 

"How  solitary,  how  joyless  life  isl  how  rich  I  was  once  in 
friends,  how  poor  I  am  now  1  and  who  knows  how  much  poorer  I 
may  be  to-morrow  at  this  hour — who  knows  if  I  shall  have  a  place 
to  lay  my  head  ? — I  may  be  a  fugitive,  without  home  or  country. 
Verily,  I  have  the  destiny  of  Mithridates — I  want  only  two  sons  and 
a  Monima.  Well, "  continued  he,  with  a  soft  smile,  "  it  is  still 
something  to  stand  alone — misfortunes  only  strike  home.  But  do  I 
stand  alone?  have  I  not  an  entire  people  looking  to  me  and  expecting 
me  to  do  my  duty?  Have  I  not  brave  soldiers,  who  call  me  father, 
looking  death  courageously  in  the  face  and  hazarding  their  lives  for 
me?  No,  I  am  not  alone— and  if  Mithridates  had  two  sons,  I  have 
thirty-three  thousand.  I  will  go  and  bid  them  good-evening.  I 
think  it  will  refresh  my  sad  heart  to  hear  their  cheerful  greetings." 

The  king  threw  on  his  mantle  and  left  his  quarters,  to  make,  as 
he  was  often  accustomed  to  do,  a  tour  through  the  camp.  Only  the 
oflScer  on  guard  followed  him,  at  a  short  distance. 

It  was  now  dark,  and  fires,  which  were  lighted  everywhere,  gave 
a  little  protection  against  the  biting  cold.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight 
— the  wide  plain,  with  its  mmaberless,  blazing,  flickering  fires, 
surrounded  by  groups  of  cheerful  soldiers,  their  fresh  faces  glowing 
with  the  light  of  the  flames.  In  the  distance  the  moon  rose  grand 
and  full,  illuminating  the  scene  with  its  silver  rays,  and  blending 
its  pale  shimmer  with  the  ruddy  flames. 

The  king  walked  briskly  through  the  camp,  and,  when  recog- 
♦  Tbe  king"?  own  words. —Retzow.  voj.  I.,  p.  ?30, 


CAMP  SCENE.  241 

nized,  the  soldiers  greeted  him  with  shouts  and  loving  words.  As  he 
approached  a  large  fire,  over  which  hung  a  big  kettle,  the  contents 
of  which  filled  the  air  with  savory  odors,  he  heard  a  brisk  voice  say  : 

"  Now,  comrades,  come  and  eat,  the  noodles  are  done  !" 

"  Hurrah !  here  we  are, "  cried  the  boys,  who  were  standing  not 
far  off,  chatting  merrily.  They  sprang  forward  joyfully,  to  eat  the 
longed-for  noodles. 

The  king,  recognizing  the  soldiers  who  had  uncovered  his  roof, 
drew  near  to  the  fire. 

"Shall  I  also  come  and  eat  with  you?"  he  said,  good-humoredly. 

The  soldiers  looked  up  from  the  tin  plates,  in  which  tlie  noodles 
were  swimming. 

"  Yes,  sire, "  said  Fritz  Kober,  jumping  up  and  approaching  the 
king ;  "  yes,  you  shall  eat  with  us ;  here  is  my  spoon  and  knife,  and 
if  you  reject  it,  and  are  only  mocking  us,  I  shall  be  very  angry 
indeed. " 

The  king  laughed,  and  turning  to  the  officer  who  had  followed 
him,  said  as  if  to  excuse  himself  : 

"I  must  really  eat,  or  I  shall  make  the  man  furious. — Give  me 
your  spoon  ;  but  listen,  I  can  tell  you,  if  the  noodles  are  not  good,  I 
shall  be  angry. "     He  took  the  plate  and  began  to  eat. 

The  soldiers  all  stopped,  and  looked  eagerly  at  the  king.  "When 
he  had  swallowed  the  first  bite,  Fritz  Kober  could  no  longer  restrain 
his  curiosity. 

"Well,  sire,"  he  said,  triumphantly,  "what  do  you  say  to  it? 
Can't  Buschman  prepare  better  noodles  than  your  cleverest  cook?" 

"  Verily, "  said  the  king,  smiling,  "  he  never  cooked  such  noodles 
for  me,  and  I  must  say  they  are  good  ;  but,  now  I  have  had  enough, 
and  I  am  much  obliged  to  you. " 

He  wished  to  return  his  plate  to  Fritz  Kober,  but  Fritz  shook  his 
head  violently. 

"See  here,  your  majesty,  no  one  gets  off  from  us  with  just  a 
'thank  you, '  and  you,  least  of  all,  sire  ;  every  one  must  pay  his  part. " 

"Well,"  said  the  king,  "how  much  is  my  share?" 

"  It  cost  each  of  us  three  groschen  ;  the  king  may  pay  what  he 
pleases. " 

"Will  you  credit  me,  dragoon?"  said  the  king,  who  searched  his 
pockets  in  vain  for  money. 

"  Oh !  yes,  your  majesty,  I  will  credit  you,  but  only  until  to- 
morrow morning,  early ;  for,  if  a  cannon-ball  took  my  head  off,  I 
could  not  dun  your  majesty,  and  you  would  be  my  debtor  to  all 
eternity. " 

"  It  would  then  be  better  to  settle  our  accounts  to-day, "  said  the 
king ;  and  nodding  to  the  soldiers,  he  left  them, 


242        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  WATCH-FIRE. 

The  officer  who  had  accompanied  the  king,  returned  in  an  hour 
to  the  watch-fire  of  the  dragoons,  and  handed  five  gold  pieces  (o 
Fritz  Kober,  which  had  been  sent  by  the  king  to  pay  for  his  portion 
of  the  noodles ;  then,  without  giving  the  surprised  soldier  time  to 
thank  him,  he  withdrew, 

Fritz  looked  long  and  thoughtfully  at  the  gold  pieces,  which,  in 
the  light  of  the  flickering  fire,  shone  beautifully  in  his  hand. 

"It  is  very  well — very  well  that  the  king  kept  his  word,  and  paid 
me  punctually  to-night,"  said  he  to  Chares  Henry  Buschman,  who 
sat  near,  and  with  his  elbow  resting  on  his  knee,  watched  his  friend 
closely. 

"And  why  so,  Fritz?"  said  Charles. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Charles  Henry.  If  I  fall  to-morrow,  I  will  have 
something  in  my  pocket  that  you  will  inherit  from  me.  I  declare 
to  you,  no  one  but  you  alone  shall  be  my  heir ;  all  that  I  have  be- 
longs to  you.  Thunder  and  lightning !  I  am  rich !  it  is  better  I 
should  make  my  testament ;  I  don't  know  what  may  happen  to  me 
to-morrow.  I  have  neither  pen  nor  paper;  well,  I  will  make  it 
verbally  I  I  will  wake  some  of  my  comrades,  and  they  shall  witness 
my  last  will  and  testament."  He  reached  over  to  the  sleeping  sol- 
diers, who  lay  near  him  on  the  ground,  but  Charles  held  him  back. 

"Let  them  sleep,  friend,"  said  he,  pleadingly;  "it  is  not  neces- 
sary you  should  have  witnesses.  Gkxi,  and  the  moon,  and  a  thousand 
stars  hear  what  we  say  to  each  other ;  and  why  speak  of  your  will 
and  your  fortune,  friend?  Do  you  think  I  would  care  for  that  mis- 
erable gold,  if  you  were  no  longer  by  my  side?  Do  you  think  I 
would  use  it  for  any  other  purpose  than  to  buy  your  tombstone,  and 
write  on  it  in  golden  letters?" 

"What?  a  tomsbtone!"  said  Fritz  Kober,  with  an  astonished 
look ;  "and  why  would  you  place  a  tombstone  over  a  poor,  simple, 
unknown  fellow  like  myself,  Charles  Henry?  Many  gallant  generals 
and  officers  fall  in  battle  ;  the  earth  drinks  their  blood,  and  no  one 
knows  where  they  lie.  And  with  golden  letters,  did  you  say, 
Charles?  Well,  I  am  curious  to  know  what  you  would  place  upon 
my  tombstone. " 

"I  will  tell  you,  Fritz.  I  will  write  on  your  tombstone — 'Here 
lies  Fritz  Kober ;  the  most  faithful  friend,  the  best  soul,  the  most 
honest  heart ;  good  and  simple  as  a  child,  brave  as  a  hero,  constant 
M  {^  4ove,  mi  trvi9  as  a  bovm^! '" 


THE  WATCH- PIRE.  ^3 

"But  am  I  all  that?"  said  Fritz,  amazed. 

"Yes,  you  are  all  that!"  said  Charles,  with  a  trembling  voice, 
"  You  have  been  more  than  this  to  me,  and  I  will  never  forget  it. 
I  was  a  poor,  shrinking  youth  when  I  came  to  this  camp ;  I  knew 
nothing — could  do  nothing.  My  comrades,  who  soon  found  me  out, 
mocked  and  complained  of  me,  and  played  all  manner  of  jokes  upon 
me.  They  ridiculed  me,  because  I  had  no  beard  ;  they  mimicked 
me,  because  my  voice  was  soft  and  unsteady ;  they  asserted  that  I 
would  make  a  miserable  soldier,  because  I  grew  deadly  pale  at 
parade.  Who  was  it  took  pity  on  me,  and  opposed  themselves  to 
my  rude,  unfeeling  companions?  Who  scolded  and  threatened  to 
strike  them,  if  they  did  not  allow  me  to  go  my  own  way,  in  peace 
and  quiet?  Who  was  patient  with  my  stupidity,  and  taught  me 
how  to  go  through  with  my  military  duties  creditably,  and  how  to 
manage  my  horse?  You!  you,  dpar  Fritz!  you  alone.  You  were 
always  at  my  side,  when  others  threatened.  You  were  patient  as 
a  mother  when  she  teaches  her  dear  little  boy  his  letters,  and  looks 
kindly  upon  him,  and  is  good  to  him,  even  when  he  is  dull  and 
inattentive. " 

"Well,"  said  PVitz  Kober,  thoughtfully,  "one  can  do  nothing 
better  than  to  be  good  to  a  man  who  deserves  it,  and  who  is  himself 
so  kind,  and  pure,  and  brave,  that  a  poor  fellow  like  myself  feels 
ashamed,  and  looks  down  when  the  soft  eyes  are  fixed  upon  him.  I 
tell  you  what,  Charles  Henry,  there  is  a  jxjwer  in  your  eyes,  and 
they  have  subdued  me.  I  think  the  angels  in  heaven  have  just  such 
eyes  as  yours,  and  when  you  look  upon  me  so  softly  and  kindly, 
my  heart  bounds  with  delight.  I  have  dreamed  of  your  eyes, 
Charles  Henry ;  I  have  blushed  in  my  sleep  when  I  thought  I  had 
uttered  a  coarse  curse,  and  you  looked  upon  me  sorrowfully.  I  know 
you  cannot  endure  cursing,  or  drink,  or  even  tobacco. " 

"My  father  was  a  poor  schoolmaster,"  said  Charles  Henry  ;  "we 
lived  quietly  together,  and  he  could  not  bear  cursing.  He  used  to 
say,  'When  men  cursed,  it  hurt  God  like  the  toothache.'  He  said 
— '  God  had  not  made  the  com  to  grow,  that  men  might  make  brandy, 
but  bread. '  We  were  too  poor  to  buy  beer  and  wine,  so  we  drank 
water,  and  were  content. " 

"  Your  father  was  right, "  said  Fritz,  thoughtfully.  "  I  believe, 
myself,  com  was  not  intended  to  make  brandy,  and  I  don't  care  for 
it ;  I  will  give  it  up  altogether.  If  we  live  through  this  war,  and 
receive  good  bounty  money,  we  will  buy  a  few  acres,  and  build  us 
a  little  house,  and  live  together,  and  cultivate  our  land,  and  plant 
corn ;  and,  in  the  evening,  when  our  work  is  done,  we  will  sit  on 
tVie  bench  before  the  door,  and  you  will  relate  some  of  your  beautiful 
little  stories ;  and  so  we  will  live  on  together  till  we  are  old  and  die." 


244       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  EaMILY. 

"  But  you  have  forgotten  one  thing,  Fritz. " 

"What  is  that,  Charles  Henry?" 

"You  have  forgotten  that  you  will  take  a  wife  into  your  little 
house,  and  she  will  soon  cast  me  out. " 

"Let  her  try  it  I"  cried  Fritz,  enraged,  and  doubling  his  fist 
threateningly.  "Let  her  try  only  to  show  the  door  to  Charles 
Henry,  and  I  will  shut  her  out,  and  she  shall  never  return — never  ! 
But,"  said  he,  softly,  "it  is  not  necessary  to  think  of  this;  I  will 
never  take  a  wife.  We  will  live  together ;  we  need  no  third  person 
to  make  strife  between  us. " 

Charles  said  nothing.  He  looked  smilingly  into  the  glowing 
fire,  and  then  at  his  comrade,  with  an  amused  but  tender  expression. 

If  Fritz  had  seen  it,  his  heart  would  have  boxmded  again,  but  he 
was  too  much  occupied  then  with  his  own  thoughts  to  look  up. 

"Listen,  Charles.  If  nothing  comes  of  our  little  piece  of  groimd 
and  our  house — if  my  last  baU  comes  to-morrow  and  carries  me  off — " 

"  Stop,  stop,  Fritz ;  I  will  hold  my  head  so  that  the  same  ball  will 
carry  it  off  1" 

"If  you  do  that,  I  will  be  very  angry  with  you,"  cried  Fritz. 
"You  are  too  young  to  die,  and  I  will  be  glad  even  in  my  grave  to 
know  that  you  are  walking  on  the  green  earth.  In  order  to  do  well, 
you  must  have  gold  ;  therefore  you  must  be  my  heir.  If  I  fall,  these 
beautiful  gold  pieces  belong  to  you  ;  you  shall  not  put  a  tombstone 
over  me.  Buy  yourself  a  few  acres,  Charles  Henry,  and  when  your 
com  grows  and  blossoms,  that  shall  be  my  monument. " 

Charles  took  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 
"Speak  no  more  of  death,"  said  he,  softly;  "it  makes  my  heart 
heavy,  and  I  shall  lose  my  courage  in  the  battle  to-morrow  when  I 
think  of  all  you  have  said.  Ugh  I  how  cold  it  is !  My  soul  feels 
frosted !" 

"  I  will  go  and  seek  a  little  more  wood, "  said  Fritz,  springing  up, 
"  and  make  a  good  fire,  and  then  you  shall  be  warmed. " 

He  hurried  off,  and  Charles  remained  alone  by  the  fire,  looking 
gravely  on  the  glowing  coals ;  he  smiled  from  time  to  time,  and 
then  he  breathed  heavily,  as  if  oppressed  by  some  weighty  secret. 
Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him. 

"  Ah !  I  have  foimd  the  fire  again  !    Good-evening,  children. " 

"Good-evening,  sir  king.  Comrades,  wake  up;  the  king  is 
herel"  "" 

"  No,  no ;  let  your  comrades  sleep, "  said  the  king,  softly.  "  The 
fire  will  do  me  good.  I  found  the  right  path  to  the  fire,  as  I  said. 
Your  dragoons  have  uncovered  my  quarters,  and  the  cold  blasts  of 
wind  whistle  through  them  and  freeze  the  water  in  my  room.  I 
prefer  to  sit  by  the  fire  and  warm  myself. " 


THE  WATCH  FIRE.  245 

He  was  about  to  seat  himself  on  the  straw  near  the  fire,  when  a 
harsh  voice  called  out : 

"  March  on  ! — every  lazy  scamp  wants  a  place  by  the  fire,  but  not 
one  of  them  brings  a  splinter  of  wood. " 

Fritz  Kober  was  behind  them  with  the  wood ;  he  had  found  it 
with  great  diflBculty,  and  he  was  angry  when  he  saw  a  strange  sol- 
dier in  his  place  by  the  side  of  Charles  Henry. 

The  king  turned  to  him  quietly. 

"  You  are  right,  my  eon  ! — come  on  !    I  will  make  room  for  you. " 

"It  is  the  king !"  exclaimed  Fritz,  turning  as  if  to  fly.  But  the 
king  held  him. 

"Remain  where  you  are,  my  son;  you  brought  the  wood,  and 
you  have  the  best  right.  I  only  wish  to  wann  myself  a  little,  and 
I  think  there  is  room  for  us  all. "  ^ 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  straw,  and  nodded  to  Fritz  Kober  to 
take  a  seat  by  him.  Fritz  tremblingly  obeyed,  and  Charles  stirred 
the  fire,  which  flamed  up  beautifully. 

King  Frederick  gazed  at  the  flickering  flames.  Charles  and 
Fritz  sat  on  each  side  of  him,  and  watched  him  in  respectful  silence ; 
around  the  watch-fire  lay  the  sleeping  dragoons.  After  a  long  pause 
the  king  raised  his  head  and  looked  about  him. 

"Well,  children,  to-morrow  will  be  a  hot  day,  and  we  must  strike 
the  Austrians  boldly. " 

"  Yes,  as  we  struck  the  French  at  Rossbach,  your  majesty, "  said 
Fritz.  "  Mark  me  I  it  will  go  oflf  bravely,  and  when  we  are  done 
with  the  Austrians  we  will  march  to  Constantinople . " 

"  What  will  we  do  in  Constantinople?"  said  the  king. 

"Nothing,  your  majesty,  but  march  there  with  you,  whip  the 
Turks,  and  take  all  their  gold  !" 

"  Not  quite  so  fast,  my  son. " 

"Why  not,  sir  king?  We  have  chopped  up  the  French  army; 
to-morrow  we  will  do  the  same  for  the  Austrians ;  and  then,  why 
not  whip  the  Turks?" 

The  king  smiled,  and  said : 

"  Well,  well,  but  first  we  must  give  the  Austrians  a  good  drub- 
bing." 

"  And,  by  my  soul,  we  will  do  that, "  said  Fritz,  eagerly.  "  Your 
majesty  may  believe  me — I  will  march  with  you  to  the  end  of  the 
earth,  and  so  will  my  friend  Charles  Buschman.  If  we  have  only  a 
little  to  eat,  we  will  fi^^d  w^tey  everywhere ;  go  lead  us  where  you 

Willi" 

The  king's  eyes  flfished :  **By  heaven!  it  is  a  pleasure  to  lead 
fiich  soldiers  to  battle  I"  Then  turning,  with  a  kindly  ftspregsjoi}, 
|9  fVitz  Kober,  he  eaid :  "Cau  you  wri^f" 


246        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Not  well,  your  majesty ;  but  Charles  Henry  Buschman  caa 
write  much  better  than  I.     He  is  a  scholar. " 

"Is  that  true?"  said  the  king,  gayly,  to  Charles. 

"He  will  say  'No, '  sir  king ;  he  cannot  bear  to  be  praised.  But 
the  truth  remains,  the  truth  even  when  denied — Charles  is  the 
bravest  and  wisest  soldier  in  the  army,  and  if  there  is  justice  in  the 
world  he  will  be  made  an  officer. " 

"You  must  get  your  commission  first,  Fritz,  "said  Charles,  in- 
differently ;  "  you  earned  it  long  ago,  and  if  the  king  only  knew  all 
that  you  did  at  Rossbach,  you  would  have  it  now." 

"What  did  he  do?"  said  the  king. 

"  Nothing,  your  majesty, "  said  Fritz. 

"Yes,  vour  majesty,"  said  Charles,  zealously;  "he  hewed  right 
and  left  tmtil  the  sparks  flew  in  every  direction.  Our  commander 
had  told  us  the  disgusting  Frenchmen  wanted  to  take  our  winter 
quarters,  and  even  when  Fritz  Kober's  sword  was  still  whizzing 
among  them,  they  had  the  insolence  to  cry  out,  '  Quartier  !  guartier  ! ' 
— then  was  Fritz  enraged,  and  cut  them  down  like  corn-stalks,  and 
cried  out,  'Yes,  yes!  I  will  give  you  quarters,  but  they  will  be 
xmderground !'" 

"  Only  think, "  said  Fritz,  "  they  were  flying  before  us,  and  the 
impudent  scamps,  when  we  captured  them,  would  still  twit  us  with 
the  winter  quarters  they  had  intended  to  rob  us  of.  How  could  I 
help  cutting  them  to  pieces?" 

"But  he  spared  those  who  cried  'Pardon,'  your  majesty,"  paid 
Charles  Henrj',  "  he  only  took  them  prisoners.  Nine  prisoners  did 
Fritz  Kober  take  at  Rossbach. "  * 

"  I  suppose  the  five  prisoners  you  took  were  men  of  straw,  that 
you  say  nothing  of  them, "  cried  Fritz. 

The  king  looked  well  pleased  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  It  appears  to  me  you  are  both  brave  soldiers,  and  the  braver  be 
cause  you  do  not  boast  of  your  deeds.     Are  you  always  such  good 
friends  as  to  seek  to  do  each  other  kindly  service?" 

"Your  majesty,  Charles  Henry  is  my  truest  friend,  and  if  you 
wish  to  do  me  a  service,  make  him  an  officer. " 

"  But  he  says  he  will  not  be  made  an  officer  unless  you  are  made 
one,  so  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  promote  both  !  If 
in  the  battle  to-morrow  you  fight  like  heroes,  you  shall  both  be  made 
officers.    Now,  children,  be  quiet,  let  me  rest  a  little.     I  do  not 

*  The  Prussians  had  been  told  that  the  Frenchmen  intended  to  take  possession 
of  their  winter  quarters,  and  this  enraged  them  greatly.  When  the  French  cavalry 
were  flying  at  Rossbach,  they  used  the  (Jerman  word  gxuirtier,  thinking  they  would 
be  better  understood.  The  Prussians  looked  upon  this  as  an  insolent  jest,  and  gave 
DO  Quarter.— Nicolai'9  Characteristics  and  Anecdotes. 


THE  WATCH-PIRE.  U1 

want  to  sleep — cannot  you  tell  me  some  little  story,  some  pretty  little 
fairy  tale  to  keep  my  heavy  eyes  from  closing?" 

"  Charles  knows  many  fairy  tales,  sir  king,  and  if  you  command 
it  he  must  relate  one. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  your  majesty,  I  know  the  history  of  a  fairy  who  knew 
and  loyed  the  brave  son  of  a  king,  and  when  the  prince  went  into 
battle  she  transformed  herself  into  a  sword,  that  she  might  be  always 
by  the  side  of  him  she  loved. " 

"  Tell  me  this  pretty  story,  my  son. " 

Charles  Henry  began  to  relate.  Deep  silence  reigned  about  the 
camp.  Here  and  there  a  word  was  spoken  in  sleep,  a  loud  snore, 
or  the  neighing  of  a  horse.  The  fires  were  burned  down,  and  the 
coals  glowed  like  fire-flies  upon  the  dark  groimd. 

The  moon  stood  over  the  camp  and  illuminated  the  strange  and 
parti-colored  scene  with  her  soft  rajs,  and  called  out  the  most  won- 
derful contrasts  of  light  and  shade.  Far,  far  away,  in  the  dim  dis- 
tance, one  blood-red  point  could  be  seen ;  it  looked  like  a  crimson 
Btar  in  the  east.  This  was  the  camp-fire  of  the  Austrians.  This 
mighty  army  was  encamped  behind  Leuthen,  The  king  gazed  in 
that  direction  with  eager  expectation,  and  listened  with  painful 
attention  to  every  distant  sound. 

The  silence  of  death  reigned  there ;  no  sound  or  voice  was  heard. 
The  king,  being  convinced  of  this,  sank  back  once  more  upon  the 
straw,  and  listened  to  Charles  Henry  Buschman. 

It  was  indeed  a  beautiful  fairy  tale  ;  so  wild  and  so  fantastic  that 
Fritz  listened  with  eyes  extended  and  almost  breathless  to  every 
word.  At  last,  as  the  handsome  prince  was  drawing  his  last  breath, 
the  lovely  fairy  sprang  from  his  sword  and  brought  the  dead  to  life 
with  her  warm  kisses,  Fritz  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  excitement,  and 
interrupted  Charles  by  an  outcry  of  rapture. 

"This  is  a  true  story,  sir  king!"  cried  he,  passionately;  "every 
word  is  true,  and  he  who  don't  believe  it  is  a  puppy  !" 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  king,  "I  believe  every  word,  friend." 

Charles  Henry  went  on  with  his  fairy  tales ;  but,  notwithstand- 
ing the  wonders  he  related,  sleep  at  last  overcame  his  friend  !  Fritz's 
eyes  closed,  but  he  murmxured  in  his  sleep  : 

"  It  is  all  true — all  true !" 

Charles  Henry  himself,  wearied  by  the  exertions  of  the  last  few 
days,  felt  his  eyelids  to  be  as  heavy  as  lead,  his  words  came  slowly, 
then  ceased  altogether. 

Tlie  king  looked  at  his  slumbering  soldiers,  then  far  away  toward 
the  watch-  fires  of  the  Austrian  camp. 

Silence  still  reigned.  The  moon  showed  distant  objects  in  the 
clearest  light,  and  nothing  suspicious  or  alarming  could  be  seen. 


^8       FREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  It  waa  false  intelligence  which  was  brought  to  me, "  said  the 
king.     "  It  is  not  true  that  the  Austrians  are  on  the  march  and  in 
tend  to  surprise  me.    They  sleep ! — we  will  not  see  them  till  to- 
morrow.    I  will  withdraw  to  my  quarters." 

King  Frederick  stepped  slowly  through  the  ranks  of  the  sleepers, 
and  gave  a  sign  to  the  officer  and  the  four  soldiers  who  had  accom- 
panied him,  but  remained  at  a  distance  from  the  fire,  to  move 
lightly  and  awaken  no  one. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE    BATTLK   OF    LEUTHEN. 

Easlt  the  next  morning  the  king  left  his  tent.  The  generals 
were  anxiously  awaiting  him.  His  countenance  glowed  with 
energy  and  determination,  and  his  brilliant  eyes  flashed  with  a 
sparkling  light.  Inspired  by  the  appearance  of  their  hero,  the 
clouded  brows  of  the  assembled  generals  became  clearer.  Tliey  felt 
that  his  lofty  brow  was  illumined  by  genius,  and  that  the  laurels 
which  crowned  it  could  never  fade.  They  were  now  confident, 
courageous,  ready  for  the  battle,  and,  although  they  had  at  first  dis- 
approved of  the  king's  plan  of  attacking  the  enemy  who  had  twice 
overcome  them,  now  that  he  was  in  their  midst  they  felt  secure  of 
success. 

Spies  reported  that  the  Austrian  army  had  left  their  camp  at 
Bimrise  and  advanced  toward  Leuthen  ;  they  spoke  much  and  loudly 
of  the  strength  of  the  enemy,  and  of  the  eagerness  of  the  soldiers  to 
fall  upon  the  weak  Priissian  army. 

At  a  sign  from  the  king,  Seidlitz  approached  him,  and  informed 
him  of  the  latest  rumors. 

"  It  is  a  fearful  army  we  are  to  attack, "  said  Seidlitz  ;  "  more  than 
twice  our  number. " 

"I  am  aware  of  the  strength  of  the  enemy,"  said  the  king, 
quietly,  "but  nothing  is  left  for  me  but  victory  or  death.  "Were 
they  stationed  upon  the  church-tower  of  Breslau  I  would  attack 
them." 

Then  approaching  the  other  generals,  he  continued  in  a  loud 
voice: 

"  You  are  aware,  gentlemen,  that  Prince  Charles,  of  Lothringen, 
succeeded  in  taking  Schweidnitz,  defeating  the  Duke  of  Bevem, 
and  has  made  himself  master  of  Breslau,  while  I  was  protecting 
Berlin  from  the  French  army.  The  capital  of  Silesia,  and  all  the 
munitions  of  war  stowed  there,  have  been  lo«t.     All  these  circum- 


THE  BATTLE  OP  LEUTHEN.  24d 

stances  are  calculated  to  distress  me  deeply,  had  I  not  a  boundless 
confidence  in  your  courage,  your  resolution,  and  your  devoted  love 
to  your  country.  There  is,  I  think,  not  one  among  us  who  has  not 
been  distinguished  for  some  gi'eat,  some  noble  deed.  I  feel  assured 
that  your  courage  will  not  now  fail  in  this  hour  of  direst  need.  I 
would  feel  as  if  I  had  accomplished  nothing  were  I  to  leave  Silesia 
in  the  possession  of  the  Austriaus.  Against  all  acknowledged  rules 
of  war,  I  am  determined  to  attack  the  army  of  Charles  of  Lothringen, 
though  it  is  three  times  as  strong  as  mj'  own.  Notwithstanding  the 
number  of  the  enemy,  or  its  advantageous  position,  I  feel  confident 
of  success.  This  step  must  be  taken,  or  all  is  lost !  We  must  defeat 
the  Austrians,  or  fall  beneath  their  batteries !  This  is  my  opinion, 
and  thus  I  shall  act.  Make  my  determination  known  to  every 
officer.  Acquaint  the  soldiers  with  the  events  that  will  soon  occur 
— tell  them  that  I  require  unconditional  obedience  !  Remember  that 
you  are  Prussians  ! — do  not  show  j'ourselves  unworthy  of  the  name ! 
But  should  there  be  any  among  you  who  fear  to  share  these  dangers 
•with  us,  they  can  leave  at  once,  and  shall  not  be  reproached  by  me. " 

The  king  ceased  speaking,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  listen- 
ers. Upon  every  countenance  he  read  determination,  courage,  and 
inspiration,  but  here  and  there  were  some  whose  brows  became 
clouded  at  the  king's  last  suggestion,  and  tears  were  sparkling  in 
old  General  Rohr's  eyes.  The  king  pressed  the  general's  hand 
almost  tenderly. 

"Ah,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he,  "I  did  not  suspect  you.  But  I 
again  say,  that  if  any  amongst  you  wishes  leave  of  absence,  he  shall 
have  it. " 

Profound  quiet  followed  these  words.  No  one  approached  the 
king — no  sound  disturbed  the  solemn  stillness.  At  a  distance,  the 
loud  shouts  and  hurrahs  of  the  soldiers,  preparing  for  battle,  could 
be  heard.  The  king's  countenance  became  clear,  and  he  continued 
with  enthusiasm : 

"  I  knew  beforehand  that  none  of  you  would  leave  me.  I  counted 
upon  your  assistance  ;  with  it,  I  shall  be  victorious.  Should  I  fall 
iu  this  battle,  you  must  look  to  your  country  for  reward  ;  and  now, 
away  to  the  camp,  and  repeat  to  your  men  what  I  have  said  to  you. 
Farewell,  gentlemeh,  before  long  we  will  either  have  defeated  the 
enemy,  or  we  will  see  one  another  no  more. " 

And  now  tliere  arose  from  the  generals  and  oflBcers  loud,  joyous 
shouts. 

"  We  will  conquer  or  dIS  !"  cried  Seidlitz,  whose  daring,  youthful 
countenance  sparkled  with  delight.  "We  will  conquer  or  die!'' 
was  repeated  by  all. 

At  last  the  brave  words  reached  the  camp,  and  were  reechoed  by 
17 


250       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

thirty  thousand  lusty  throats.  There  was  universal  joy.  Old  gray- 
headed  warriors,  who  had  followed  the  king  into  many  battles,  who 
had  conquered  repeatedly  with  him,  shook  hands  with  and  en- 
couraged each  other,  and  warned  the  younger  soldiers  to  be  brave 
and  fearless. 

Resting  upon  his  horse,  the  king  had  been  a  joyful  witness  to  all 
this  enthusiasm.  At  this  moment,  a  troop  of  soldiers,  numbering 
about  fifty,  approached  him.  The  commanding  officer  was  greeted 
with  a  kindly  smile. 

"You  are  Lieutenant  von  Frankenberg?"  said  the  king.  And  as 
the  lieutenant  bowed  in  answer,  he  continued  :  "  General  Kleist  has 
spoken  of  you  as  being  a  brave  and  trustworthy  officer.  I  have 
therefore  a  strange  commission  for  you.  Listen  well !  do  not  lose  a 
word  of  what  I  say.  Come  nearer.  And  now, "  said  the  king,  in  a 
low  voice,  "be  attentive.  In  the  approaching  battle,  I  will  have  to 
expose  myself  more  than  usual ;  you  and  your  fifty  men  shall  guard 
me.  You  must  watch  over  me,  and  be  careful  that  I  fall  not  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Should  I  fall,  cover  my  body  with  your 
mantle,  and  carry  me  to  the  wagon,  which  shall  be  stationed  behind 
the  first  battalion.  Leave  me  there,  and  tell  no  one  of  what  has 
occui:red.     The  battle  must  continue — the  enemy  must  be  defeated. " 

When  the  king  had  thus  made  his  testament,  he  dismissed  the 
lieutenant,  and  advanced  toward  his  body-guard. 

"  Good-morning !"  cried  the  king,  cheerfully. 

"  Good-morning,  father !"  was  the  universal  answer.  Tlien  the 
old  graybeards,  standing  beside  the  king,  said  again  : 

"Good-morning,  father!  it  is  very  cold  to-day." 

"It  will  be  warm  enough  before  the  day  is  over,  boys  !"  said  the 
king.  "  There  is  much  to  be  done.  Be  brave,  my  children,  and  I 
will  care  for  you  as  a  father. " 

An  old  soldier,  with  silver  hair,  and  the  scars  of  many  wounds 
upon  his  face,  approached  the  king. 

"Your  majesty, "  said  he,  in  an  earnest  voice,  "  if  we  are  crippled, 
what  will  become  of  us?" 

"  You  shall  be  taken  care  of, "  said  the  king. 

"Will  your  majesty  give  me  your  hand  upon  this  promise?" 

This  question  was  followed  by  deep  silence.  All  present  were 
gazing  anxiously  at  the  king  and  the  old  guard.  The  king  advanced, 
and  laid  his  hand  in  that  of  the  old  soldier. 

"  I  swear,  that  any  of  you  who  are  crippled,  shall  be  taken  care 
of." 

The  old  warrior  turned  with  tearful  eyes  to  his  comrades. 

"  Well, "  said  he, "  you  hear  him  ?  he  is  and  will  continue  to  be  the 
King  of  Prussia  and  our  father.     The  one  who  deserts  is  a  rascal. " 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEUTHEN.  251 

"Long. live  our  Fritz  !"  and  throughout  the  whole  camp  resounded 
the  cry — "  Long  live  our  Fritz  !    Long  live  our  king  I" 

"  Onward  !  onward  !"  was  the  cry,  for  at  the  end  o^  the  plain  the 
enemy  could  be  seen  approaching. 

"Forward!"  cried  the  soldiers,  falling  one  by  one  into  their 
places,  as  the  king,  followed  by  Lieutenant  Frankenberg  and  his 
men,  galloped  past  them. 

A  turn  in  the  road  showed  the  Prussians  the  enormous  size  of  the 
enemy's  army.  Silence  prevailed  for  a  few  moments.  Suddenly, 
here  and  there  a  voice  could  be  heard  singing  a  battle-hymn,  and 
soon,  accompanied  by  the  band,  the  whole  army  was  breathing  out 
in  song  an  earnest  prayer  to  God. 

A  guard,  approaching  the  king,  said  : 

"Is  it  your  majesty's  desire  that  the  soldiers  should  cease 
singing  V" 

The  king  shook  his  head  angrily. 

"  No !"  said  he,  "  let  them  alone.  "With  such  an  army,  God  can 
but  give  me  victory. " 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  enemy,  covering  the  plain  with  their 
numbers,  and  gazing  with  amazement  at  the  little  army  that  dared 
to  oppose  them .  By  the  Austrian  generals,  smiling  so  contemptu- 
ously upon  their  weak  opponents,  one  thing  had  been  forgotten. 
The  Austrians,  confident  of  success,  were  not  in  the  least  enthusi- 
astic ;  the  Priissians,  aware  of  their  danger,  and  inspired  by  love 
for  their  king,  had  nerved  themselves  to  the  contest.  The  armies 
now  stood  before  each  other  in  battle  array.  Tlie  king  was  at  the 
front,  the  generals  were  flying  here  and  there,  delivering  their 
orders.  In  obedience  to  these  orders,  the  army  suddenly  changed  its 
position,  and  so  strange,  so  unsuspected  was  the  change,  that  General 
Daun,  turning  to  the  Prince  Lothringen,  said  : 

"  The  Prussians  are  retreating !  we  will  not  attack  them. " 

Certain  of  this  fact,  they  were  off  their  guard,  and  disorder  reigned 
in  their  camp.  This  security  was  suddenly  changed  to  terror.  They 
saw  the  Prussians  rapidly  approaching,  threatening  at  once  both 
wings  of  their  army.  Messenger  upon  messenger  was  sent,  imploring 
help  from  General  Daun  and  Charles  of  Lothringen.  The  Prussians 
were  upon  them,  felling  them  to  the  earth,  regardless  of  danger — 
regardless  of  the  numerovis  cannon  which  were  playing  upon  them. 
Daun,  with  a  part  of  his  command,  hurried  to  the  aid  of  General  Lu- 
chesi,  but  he  was  too  late  ;  Luchesi  had  fallen,  and  terror  and  disorder 
were  rapidly  spreading  in  the  right  wing,  while  from  the  left,  Nadasky 
had  already  dispatched  ten  messengers,  imploring  assistance  from 
Charles  of  Lothringen.  In  doubt  as  to  which  most  needed  help,  he 
at  last  determined  upon  the  right  wing,  whose  ranks  were  tbiiming 


252       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

rapidly  ;  he  sent  them  aid,  and  took  no  notice  of  Nadasky's  ttiessen 
gers.  And  now  the  Prussians  fell  upon  the  left  wing  of  the  Aus- 
trians.  This  attack  was  made  with  fury,  and  the  Austrians  retreated 
in  wild  disorder.  It  was  in  vain  that  other  regiments  came  to  their 
aid  ;  they  had  no  time  to  arrange  themselves  before  they  were  forced 
back.  They  stumbled  upon  one  another,  the  flying  overtaking  and 
trampling  upon  the  flying.  Again  and  again  the  imperial  guards 
endeavored  to  place  themselves  in  line  of  battle  ;  they  were  at  once 
overpowered  by  the  Pnissian  cavalry,  who,  intoxicated  with  vic- 
tory, threw  themselves  upon  them  with  demoniac  strength.  Yes, 
intoxicated — mad  with  victory,  were  these  Prussians.  With  perfect 
indifference  they  «aw  their  friends,  their  comrades,  fall  beside 
them ;  they  did  not  mourn  over  them,  but  revenged  their  death 
tenfold  upon  the  enemy.  Those  even  who  fell  were  inspired  by 
enthusiasm  and  courage.  Forgetful  of  their  wounds,  of  their  torn 
and  broken  limbs,  they  gazed  with  joy  and  pride  at  their  comrades, 
joining  in  their  shouts  and  hurrahs,  until  death  sealed  their  lips. 

A  Prussian  grenadier,  whose  left  leg  had  been  shot  off  in  the 
early  part  of  the  battle,  raised  himself  from  the  groxmd  ;  using  his 
gun  as  a  crutch,  he  dragged  himself  to  a  spot  which  the  army  had 
to  pass,  and  cried  to  the  comrades  who  were  looking  pityingly  upon 
his  bleeding  limb  :  "  Fight  like  brave  Prussians,  brothers !  Conquer 
or  die  for  your  king  !" 

Another  grenadier,  who  had  lost  both  legs,  lay  upon  the  ground 
weltering  in  his  blood,  quietly  smoking  his  pipe.  An  Austrian 
general  galloping  by  held  in  his  horse  and  looked  in  amazement  at 
the  soldier.  "How  is  it  possible,  comrade,"  said  he,  "that  in  your 
fearful  condition  you  can  smoke?    Death  is  near  to  you." 

Taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  the  grenadier  answered  with 
white,  trembling  lips  :  "  Well,  and  what  of  it?  Do  I  not  die  for  my 
king?" 

Where  the  danger  was  the  greatest,  there  was  the  king  encourag- 
ing his  soldiers.  When  a  column  was  seen  to  reel,  there  was 
Frederick  in  their  midst  inspiring  new  courage  by  his  presence. 
The  king  was  the  soul  of  his  ai-my,  and  as  his  soul  was  sanspeur  et 
sans  reproche,  the  army  was  victorious.  Napoleon,  speaking  of  this 
battle,  says:  "Cette  bataille  de  Leu  then  est  propre  a  immortaliser 
le  caract^re  moral  de  Frederic,  et  met  a  jour  ses  grands  talents 
militaires."  And  somewhat  later,  he  says :  "Cette  bataille  etait  un 
chef  d'oeuvre  de  mouvements,  de  manoeuvres,  et  de  resolution,  seul 
elle  suffirait  pour  immortaliser  Frederic,  et  lui  donne  unrang  parmi 
les  plus  grands  g6n6raux  !" 

The  victory  was  gained.  The  defeated  Austrians  fled  in  haste, 
leaving  a  himdred  cannon,  fifty  baanen,  and  more  than  twenty 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEUTHEN.  25:3 

thousand  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  Prussians ;  while  upon  the 
battle-field  six  thousand  of  their  dead  and  wounded  were  lying,  with 
but  two  thousand  dead  and  wounded  Prussians.  The  victory  be- 
longed to  Pi-ussia.  They  had  all  distinguished  themselves  ;  the  king 
and  every  common  soldier  had  done  his  duty.  Frederick,  accom- 
panied by  his  staff,  to  which  Lieutenant  Frankenberg  and  his  fifty 
men  did  not  now  belong,  passed  the  bloody,  smoking  battle-field 
His  countenance  was  sparkling  with  joy — his  eyes  shone  like  stars. 
He  seemed  looking  for  some  one  to  whom  to  open  his  grateful 
Heart. 

He  who  had  given  most  assistance  in  the  battle  was  Prince  Moritz 
von  Dessau,  whom  at  the  battle  of  Collin  the  king  had  threatened  with 
his  sword,  and  with  whom  he  had  ever  since  been  angry  because  his 
prophecy  proved  true.  But  there  was  no  anger  now  in  the  king's 
heart ;  and  as  he  had,  in  the  presence  of  all  his  stafif,  threatened  the 
prince,  he  wished  also  in  their  presence  to  thank  and  reward  him. 
The  prince  was  at  a  slight  distance  from  him,  so  busily  engaged  in 
giving  orders  that  he  did  not  perceive  the  king  until  he  was  quite 
close  to  him. 

"  I  congratulate  you  upon  this  victory, "  said  the  king,  in  a  loud 
voice — "I  congratulate  you,  field -marshal." 

The  prince  bowed  in  a  silent,  absent  manner,  and  continued  to 
give  his  ordei-s. 

The  king,  raising  his  voice,  said  :  "  Do  you  not  hear,  field-mar- 
shal ?    I  congratulate  you  !" 

The  prince  looked  hastily  at  the  king.  "  How  ?  Your  majesty, " 
said  he,  doubtfully,  "  has  appointed  me — " 

"My  field  -  marshal, "  said  the  king,  interrupting  him.  "And 
well  have  you  deserved  this  promotion ;  you  have  assisted  me  in 
this  battle  as  I  have  never  before  been  assisted. "  He  grasped  the 
prince's  hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly,  and  there  were  teax-s  of  emo- 
tion not  only  in  the  eyes  of  the  new  field -marshal,  but  also  in  those 
of  the  king. 

A  fearful  day's  work  was  finished — how  fearful,  could  be  seen  by 
the  .wounded,  the  dying  lying  pell-mell  upon  the  battle-field  amidst 
the  dead,  too  exhausted  to  move.  But  the  day  had  passed.  Tlie 
cries  and  shouts  of  the  flying  enemy  had  now  ceased — the  victory, 
the  battle-field,  belonged  to  the  Prussians.  Wliat  was  now  most 
needed  by  them  was  an  hour's  rest.  Above  the  bloody  battle-field, 
above  the  dying,  the  sleeping,  the  groaning,  the  sighing,  now  rose 
the  moon  grandly,  solemnly,  as  if  to  console  the  dead  and  to  lead 
the  living  to  raise  their  grateful  prayers  to  heaven.  And  gi'ateful 
praise  ascended  above  that  night — thanks  for  the  preservation  of 
their  own  and  their  friends'  lives — thanks  for  their  hero's  victory 


254       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  EaMILY. 

Side  by  side,  whispering  in  low  tones,  lay  the  soldiers — for  the  hour 
seemed  to  all  too  solemn  to  be  broken  by  any  loud  sound. 

No  hearts  were  so  full  of  gratitude  and  joy  as  those  of  Charles 
Henry  Buschman  and  Fritz  Kober.  In  the  pressure  of  the  battle 
they  had  been  separated  and  had  not  again  met  during  the  engage- 
ment. In  vain  they  had  sought  and  called  upon  one  another,  and 
each  one  thought  of  the  fearful  possibility  that  the  other  had  fallen. 
At  last  they  stumbled  upon  each  other.  With  shouts  of  joy  they 
rushed  into  each  other's  arms. 

"  You  are  not  wounded,  Fritz  Kober?"  said  Charles  Henry,  with 
a  beating  heart. 

"  I  am  unharmed  ;  but  you,  my  friend  ?" 

"Only  a  little  cut  in  the  hand,  nothing  more.  How  many  pris 
oners  did  you  take?" 

"Seven,  Charles  Henry." 

"  You  will  be  promoted  !    You  will  be  an  oflBc«r !" 

"  Not  unless  you  are  also.     How  many  prisoners  did  you  take?" 

"  I  am  not  sure,  Fritz ;  I  think  there  were  nine.  But  the  captain 
will  know. " 

"We  will  both  be  promoted,  the  king  promised  it,  and  now  I  am 
willing  to  accept  it. " 

"But  what  is  this  to  us  now,  my  friend?"  said  Charles  Henry; 
"  we  have  found  one  another,  and  I  am  indifferent  to  all  else. " 

"  You  are  right,  Charles  Henry  ;  this  has  been  a  fearful,  a  terri- 
ble day.     My  knees  tremble  beneath  me — let  us  rest  a  while. " 

He  laid  himself  upon  the  ground.  Charles  Henry  knelt  beside 
him,  laying  one  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  looked  at  the  stany 
sky ;  a  holy  smile  glorified  his  countenance.  As  he  gazed  at  the 
moon,  tender  feelings  were  at  work  in  his  heart.  He  thought  of  his 
distant  home — of  the  graves  of  his  loved  parents,  upon  which  the 
moon  was  now  shining  aa  brightly  as  upon  this  bloody  battle-field. 
He  thought  how  kind  and  merciful  God  had  been  to  preserve  his 
friend,  his  only  consolation,  the  one  joy  of  his  weary,  lonesome  life. 
Tlie  solemn  stillness  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  the  bright  moon- 
light which  illuminated  the  battle-field,  the  thought  of  the  hard 
struggle  of  the  past  day,  all  acted  strongly  upon  his  feelings.  Tlie 
brave,  daring  soldier,  Charles  Henry  Buschman,  was  once  more 
transformed  into  the  gentle,  soft-hearted  Anna  Sophia  Detzloff; 
now,  when  danger  was  past,  she  felt  herself  a  weak,  trembling 
woman.  Deep,  inexpressible  emotion,  earnest  prayers  to  God,  were 
busy  in  Anna  Sophia's  heart. 

Koieeling  upon  the  ground,  resting  on  her  friend,  she  raised  her 
ey 63  heavenward,  and  commenced  singing  in  an  earnest,  impassioned 
tone  that  glorious  hymn,  "  Thanks  unto  God  I"    Fritz  Kober,  actu- 


WINTER  QUARTERS  IN  BRESLAU.  255 

ated  by  the  same  feelings,  joined  in  the  hymn,  and  here  and  there  a 
comrade  lent  his  voice  to  swell  the  anthem ;  it  became  stronger, 
louder,  until  at  last,  like  a  mighty  stream,  it  passed  over  the  battle- 
field, knocking  at  every  heart,  and  urging  it  to  prayer,  finding 
everywhere  an  open  ear. 

The  moon  stood  smiling  above  the  battle-field,  upon  which  eight 
thousand  dead  and  wounded  men  were  lying.  Even  the  wounded, 
who  a  short  time  before  filled  the  air  with  groans  of  pain  and  agony, 
raised  themselves  to  join  in  the  song  of  praise  which  was  now  sung, 
not  by  a  hundred,  not  by  a  thousand,  but  by  thirty  thousand  soldiers, 
thirty  thousand  heroes,  who,  after  that  bloody  day  had  earned  the 
right  to  sing  "  Thanks  vmto  God. " 


CHAPTER    XV. 

WINTER  QUARTERS  IN  BRESLAU. 

Faint  and  exhausted,  the  king  had  withdrawn  to  his  room  ;  he 
was  alone.  To-day  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  January,  Frederick's 
birthdayi  and,  although  he  had  forbidden  all  congiatulations,  he 
could  not  avoid  receiving  the  highest  tribunals  of  Breslau,  and  also 
a  few  deputations  of  the  citizens  of  this  reconquered  city.  These 
visits  wearied  the  king ;  he  was  gravo  and  out  of  spirits.  Once 
more  alone,  he  could  indulge  in  the  sad  memories  that  came  over 
him  involuntarily  and  forcibly.  For  here  in  Breslau  he  had  lately 
experienced  a  bitter  disappointment ;  every  thing  in  the  castle  re- 
minded him  of  the  treacherous  friend  whom  he  had  loved  so  dearly, 
and  who  had  so  shamefully  betrayed  him. 

The  king  was  now  thinking  of  the  Bishop  von  Schaffgotsch.  An 
expression  of  painful  gloom  clouded  his  face,  he  felt  solitary  and 
deserted  ;  the  cold,  silent  room  chilled  his  heart,  and  the  snow  blown 
against  the  window  by  the  howling  winds,  oppressed  him  strangely. 
He  was  more  dejected  and  anxious  than  he  had  ever  felt  before  a 
battle. 

"The  marquis  cannot  travel  in  such  weather,"  he  said,  sighing, 
"  and  my  musicians  will  be  careful  not  to  trust  themselves  upon  the 
highway ;  they  will  imagine  the  snow  has  blocked  up  the  way,  and 
that  it  is  impossible  to  come  through.  They  will  remain  in  Berlin, 
caring  but  little  that  I  am  counting  the  weaiy  hours  until  they 
arrive.  Yes,  yes,  this  is  an  example  of  the  almighty  power  of  a 
king ;  a  few  snow-flakes  are  suflScient  to  set  his  commands  aside, 
and  the  king  remains  but  an  impotent  child  of  the  dust.  Of  what 
ftvaij  U  it>  ^^  I  h^^^  co^q^ered  the  AustriJ^ns  ^gd  the  French?    I 


266        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

have  sown  dragons'  teeth  from  which  new  enemies  will  arise,  new 
battles,  perhaps  new  defeats.  What  have  I  gained  by  consecrating 
my  heart  to  my  friends?  They  are  but  serpents — I  have  nourished 
them  in  my  breast,  and  they  will  sting  when  I  least  suspect  them. 
Even  those  whom  I  still  trust,  foreake  me  now  when  I  most  need 
them !" 

The  wild  storm  increased,  and  blew  a  cloud  of  snow-flakes 
against  the  window,  and  the  wind  whistled  mournfully  in  the 
chimney. 

"No,"  murmured  the  king,  "D'Argens  will  certainly  not  come  ; 
he  will  remain  quietly  in  his  beloved  bed,  and  from  there  write  me 
a  touching  epistle  concerning  the  bonds  of  friendship.  I  know  that 
when  feeling  does  not  flow  from  the  hearts  of  men,  it  flows  elo- 
quently from  ink  as  a  pitiful  comixmsatiou.  But,"  he  continued 
after  a  i)ause,  "this  is  all  folly  !  Solitude  makes  a  dreamer  of  me — 
I  am  sighing  for  my  friends  as  a  lover  sighs  for  his  sweetheart! 
Am  I  then  so  entirely  alone?  Have  I  not  my  books?  Come,  Lucre- 
tius, thou  friend  in  good  and  evil  days ;  thou  sage,  thou  who  hast 
never  left  me  without  counsel  and  consolation !  Come  and  cheer 
thy  pupil — teach  him  how  to  laugh  at  this  pitiful  world  as  it 
desei-ves !" 

Taking  Lucretius  from  the  table,  and  stretching  himself  upon 
the  sofa,  he  commenced  reading.  Deep  stillness  surrounded  him. 
Bells  were  ringing  in  the  distance  in  honor  of  the  roj'al  birthday. 
The  Breslauers,  who  had  so  shortly  before  joyfullj'  welcomed  the 
conquering  Austrians,  now  desired  to  convince  the  King  of  Prussia 
that  they  were  his  zealous  subjects.  The  evening  of  the  kingly 
birthday  they  wished  to  show  the  joy  of  their  hearts  by  a  brilliant 
illumination. 

The  king  still  read,  and  became  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  hear 
the  door  gently  opened.  The  tall,  slender  form  of  the  Marquis 
d'Argens  appeared  at  the  threshold.  Overcome  with  joyful  emo- 
tions, he  remained  standing,  and  gazing  with  clouded  eyes  at  the 
king.  Composing  himself,  he  closed  the  door  softly  behind  him 
and  advanced. 

"Sire,  will  you  forgive  me  for  entering  unannounced?" 

The  king  sprang  from  his  seat  and  held  out  both  his  hands. 
"  Welcome,  welcome  !     I  thank  you  for  coming. " 

The  marquis  could  not  reply ;  he  pressed  his  lips  silently  upon 
the  king's  hands.  "My  God,"  he  said,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "how 
my  heart  has  longed  for  this  happy  moment — how  many  offerings  I 
have  vowed  to  Heaven  if  allowed  to  see  the  king  once  more. " 

"You  did  not  win  Heaven  by  promises  alone,  friend,  but  j'^ou 
b?iv9  offered  up  a  victjiR.    You  have  left  thfvt  preQious  bed  whjcj) 


WINTER  QUARTERS  IN  BRESLAU.  257 

you  have  occupied  for  the  past  eight  months — you  have  gained  a 
victoiy  over  yourself  which  is  of  more  value  than  many  victories. " 

"  Ah,  your  majesty, "  cried  the  marquis,  vehose  black  eyes  were 
again  sparkling  with  mirth,  "  I  now  feel  that  my  poor  heart  spoke 
the  truth  when  it  declared  that  you  were  ever  by  its  side.  We  have 
really  not  been  separated,  and  your  majesty  begins  with  me  to-day 
where  you  left  off  but  j'esterday.  You  laugh  now  as  then  at  me, 
and  my  poor  bed,  which  has  heard  for  more  than  a  year  past  only 
my  sighs  and  prayers  for  your  majesty's  success.  It  was  not  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  leave  it  and  to  obey  the  summons  of  my  king.  If  you 
think  this  conquest  over  myself  worth  more  than  a  victory  over 
our  enemies,  how  lightly  the  hero  of  Rossbach  and  Leuthen  regards 
victories !" 

"  Not  so,  marquis ;  but  you  know  what  the  renoivned  King  of  the 
Hebrews  said — that  wise  king  who  rejoiced  in  a  thousand  wives : 
'  He  who  conquers  himself  is  greater  than  he  who  taketh  a  city. ' 
You,  marquis,  are  this  rare  self-conqueror,  and  you  shall  be  re- 
warded right  royally.  I  have  had  rooms  prepared  as  warm  and 
comfortable  as  the  marquise  herself  could  have  arranged  for  you. 
The  windows  are  stuffed  with  cotton,  furs  are  lying  before  the  stove, 
cap  and  foot-muff,  so  your  faithful  La  Pierre  may  wrap  and  bundle 
you  up  to  your  heart's  content.  Not  a  breath  of  air  shall  annoy  you, 
and  all  your  necessities  shall  be  provided  for  with  as  much  rever- 
ence as  if  you  were  the  holy  fire  in  the  temple  of  Vesta,  and  I  the 
priestess  that  guards  it. " 

The  marquis  laughed  heartily.  "  Should  the  fire  ever  burn  low 
and  the  flame  pale,  I  beg  my  exalted  priestess  to  cast  her  burning 
glance  upon  me,  and  thus  renew  my  heat.  Sire,  allow  me,  before 
all  other  things,  to  offer  my  congratulations.  May  Heaven  bless 
this  day  which  rose  like  a  star  of  hope  upon  all  who  love  the  great, 
the  beautiful,  the  exalted,  and  the — " 

"Enough,  enough,"  cried  Frederick  ;  "  if  you  begin  in  this  way, 
I  shall  fly  from  you ;  I  shall  believe  you  are  one  of  those  stupid 
deputations  with  which  etiquette  greets  the  king.  In  this  room, 
friend,  there  is  no  king,  and  when  we  are  here  alone  we  are  two 
simple  friends,  taking  each  other  warmly  by  the  hand  and  congratu- 
lating ourselves  upon  having  lived  through  another  weary  year, 
and  having  the  courage  bravely  to  meet  the  years  that  remain. 
Should  you  still  desire  to  add  a  wish  to  this,  marquis,  pray  that  the 
war  fever  which  has  seized  all  Europe,  may  disappear — that  the 
trimnvirate  of  France,  Russia,  and  Austria,  may  be  vanquished — 
that  the  tyrants  of  this  universe  may  not  succeed  in  binding  the 
whole  world  in  the  chains  they  have  prepared  for  it. " 

"Your  majesty  will  k?ipw  how  to  obtaiu  this  result— to  bre^k 


258       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

this  chain — and  if  they  will  not  yield  willingly,  the  hero  of  Ross- 
bach  and  Leuthen  will  know  how  to  crush  them  in  his  just  rage." 

"  God  grant  it !"  sighed  the  king ;  "  I  long  for  peace,  although  my 
enemies  say  I  am  the  evil  genius  that  brings  discord  and  strife  into 
the  world.  They  say  that  if  Frederick  of  Prussia  did  not  exist,  the 
entire  world  would  be  a  paradise  of  peace  and  love.  I  could  say  to 
them,  as  Demosthenes  said  to  the  Athenians  :  '  If  Philip  were  dead, 
what  would  it  signify?  You  would  soon  make  another  Philip. '  I 
say  to  the  Austrians :  'Your  ambition,  your  desire  for  imiversal 
reign,  would  soon  rouse  other  eneimes.  The  liberties  of  Germany, 
and  indeed  of  all  Europe,  will  always  find  defenders. '  We  will 
speak  no  more  of  these  sad  themes  ;  they  belong  to  the  past  and  the 
future.  Let  us  try  to  forget,  friend,  that  we  are  in  winter  quarters 
at  Breslau,  and  imagine  ourselves  to  be  at  our  dear  Sans-Souci. " 

"  In  our  beautiful  convent, "  said  the  marquis,  "  whose  abbot  has 
BO  long  been  absent,  and  whose  monks  are  scattered  to  the  four 
winds. " 

"  It  is  true, "  sighed  the  king,  gloomily,  "  widely  scattered  ;  and 
when  the  abbot  returns  to  Sans-Souci,  every  thing  will  be  changed 
and  lonely.     Oh,  marquis,  how  much  I  have  lost  since  we  parted  !" 

"  How  much  you  have  gained,  sire !  how  many  new  laurels  crown 
your  heroic  brow !" 

"  You  speak  of  my  victories, "  said  the  king,  shaking  his  head ; 
"  but  believe  me,  my  heart  has  suffered  defeats  from  which  it  will 
never  recover.  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  death  of  my  mother — 
although  that  is  a  wound  that  will  never  heal ;  that  came  from  the 
hand  of  Providence ;  against  its  decrees  no  man  dare  murmur.  I 
speak  of  more  bitter,  more  cruel  defeats,  occasioned  by  the  ingrati- 
tude and  baseness  of  men. " 

"Your  majesty  still  thinks  of  the  unworthy  Abbot  of  Prades," 
said  D'Argens,  sadly. 

"  No,  marquis ;  that  hurt,  I  confess.  I  liked  him,  but  I  never 
loved  him — he  was  not  my  friend  ;  his  treachery  grieved  but  did  not 
surprise  me.  I  knew  he  was  weak.  He  sold  me  I  Finding  himself 
in  my  camp,  he  made  use  of  his  opportunity  and  betrayed  to  the 
enemy  all  that  came  to  his  knowledge.  He  had  a  small  soul,  and 
upon  such  men  you  cannot  count.  But  from  another  source  I  re- 
ceived a  great  wrong — this  lies  like  iron  upon  my  heart,  and  hardens 
it.  I  loved  Bishop  Schaffgotsch,  marquis  ;  I  called  him  friend  ;  I 
gave  him  proof  of  my  friendship.  I  had  a  right  to  depend  on  his 
faithfulness,  and  believe  in  a  friendship  he  had  so  often  confirmed 
by  oaths.  My  love,  at  least,  was  unselfish,  and  deserved  not  to  be 
betrayed.  But  he  was  false  in  the  hour  of  danger,  like  Peter  who 
h^trayed  his  Master.    The  Austrians  had  scarcelj^  entered  Breslau, 


WINTER  QUARTERS  IN  BRESLAU.  ^59 

when  he  not  only  denied  me,  but  went  further — he  trampled  upon 
the  orders  of  my  house,  and  held  a  Te  Deum  in  the  dome  in  honor  of 
the  Austrian  victory  at  Collin."  The  king  ceased  and  turned 
away,  that  the  marquis  might  not  see  the  tears  that  clouded  his  eyes. 

"Sire,"  cried  the  marquis,  deeply  moved,  "forget  the  ingrati- 
tude of  these  weak  souls,  who  were  unworthy  of  a  hero's  friendship. " 

"  I  will ;  but  enough  of  this.  You  are  here,  and  I  still  believe  in 
you,  marquis.  You  and  the  good  Lord  Marshal  are  the  only  friends 
left  me  to  lean  upon  when  the  baseness  of  men  makes  my  heart 
fail." 

"  These  friends  will  never  fail  you,  sire, "  said  the  marquis,  deeply 
moved  ;  "  your  virtues  and  your  love  made  them  strong. " 

The  king  took  his  hand  afifectionately.  "  Let  us  forget  the  past, " 
said  he,  gayly ;  "  and  as  we  both,  in  our  weak  hours,  consider  our- 
selves poets,  let  us  dream  that  we  are  in  my  libraiy  in  our  beloved 
Sans-Souci.  We  will  devote  this  holy  time  of  peace  to  our  studies, 
for  that  is,  without  doubt,  the  best  use  we  can  make  of  it.  You 
shall  see  a  flood  of  verses  with  which  I  amused  myself  in  camp,  and 
some  epigrams  written  against  my  enemies. " 

"But  if  we  were  even  now  in  Sans-Souci,  sire,  I  do  not  think 
you  would  give  this  hour  to  books.  I  dare  assert  you  Avould  be 
practising  with  Quantz,  and  preparing  for  the  evening  concerts." 

"Yes,  yes ;  but  here  we  are  denied  that  happiness, "  said  the  king, 
Badly.  "  I  have  written  for  a  part  of  my  band,  and  they  will  be  here 
I  hope  in  eight  days ;  but  Graun  and  Quantz  will  certainly  not — " 
The  king  paused  and  listened  attentively.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if 
he  heard  the  sound  of  a  violin  in  the  adjoining  room,  accompanied 
by  the  light  tones  of  a  flute.  Yes,  it  was  indeed  so  ;  some  one  was 
tuning  a  violin  and  the  soft  sound  of  the  flute  mingled  with  the 
violoncello.  A  flush  of  rosy  joy  lighted  the  king's  face — he  cast  a 
questioning  glance  upon  the  marquis,  who  nodded  smilingly.  With 
a  joyful  cry  the  king  crossed  the  room — an  expression  of  glad  sur- 
prise burat  from  his  lips. 

There  they  were,  the  loved  companions  of  his  evening  concerts. 
There  was  Graun,  with  his  soft,  dreamy,  artistic  face ;  there  was 
Quantz,  with  his  silent,  discontented  look — whose  grumbling,  even 
Frederick  was  compelled  to  respect;  there  was  the  young  Fasch. 
whom  the  king  had  just  engaged,  and  who  played  the  violoncello  in 
the  evening  concerts. 

As  the  king  advanced  to  meet  them,  they  greeted  him  loudly . 
"Long  live  our  king  I — our  gi-eat  Frederick!"  Even  Quantz  forgot 
himself  for  a  moment,  and  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"Listen,  sire  ;  it  will  be  a  mortal  sin  if  you  .scold  us  for  coming 
to  you  without  being  summoned  by  your  majestj'.    This  is  through 


J^eO       f  HEDEMCK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

out  all  Prussia  a  festal  day,  and  no  one  should  desecrate  it  by  scold 
ing  or  fault-finding — not  even  the  king. " 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  disposed  to  scold, "  said  Frederick,  in  low  tones ; 
he  did  not  wish  them  to  hear  how  his  voice  trembled — "  I  do  not 
scold — I  thank  you  heartily. " 

"We  had  nothing  better  to  send  your  majesty  on  your  birthday 
than  our  unworthy  selves, "  said  Graun  ;  "  we  come,  therefore,  to  lay 
ourselves  at  our  king's  feet,  and  say  to  him:  'Accept  our  hearts, 
and  do  not  spurn  the  gift. '  A  warm,  human  heart  is  the  richest 
gift  one  man  can  offer  another.  Your  majesty  is  a  great  king,  and 
a  good  and  great  man,  and  we  dare  approach  you,  therefore,  as  man 
to  man. " 

"  And  my  Graun  is  so  renowned  a  composer,  that  any  man  must 
count  it  an  honor  to  be  beloved  by  him, "  said  Frederick,  tenderly. 

"  For  myself, "  said  Quantz,  gravely,  handing  the  king  a  small 
roll  carefully  wrapped  up,  "I  have  brought  seomthing  more  than 
my  naked  heart  in  honor  of  my  king's  birthday.  I  pray  your  maj- 
esty to  accept  it  graciously. "  * 

The  king  opened  it  hastily.  "  A  flute  !"  cried  he,  joyfully,  "  and 
a  flute  made  for  me  by  the  great  master  Quantz,  I  am  sure. " 

"Yes,  your  majesty;  all  the  time  you  were  in  the  field,  I  have 
worked  upon  it.  As  the  com-ier  brought  the  news  of  the  battle  of 
Leuthen,  all  Berlin  shouted  for  joy,  and  the  banners  floated  in  eveiy 
street  and  at  eveiy  window.  Then  this  flute  broke  its  silence  for 
the  first  time — its  first  music  was  a  hosanna  to  our  great  king. " 

"  Fom  this  time  forth, "  said  Frederick,  "  let  no  man  dare  to  say 
that  battles  are  in  vain.  The  bloody  field  of  Leuthen  produced  a 
flute  from  Quantz  ;  and  by  Heaven,  that  is  a  greater  rarity  than  the 
aaost  complete  victory  in  these  warlike  days !" 

"  Sire, "  said  the  marquis,  drawing  some  letters  from  his  pocket, 
"  I  have  also  some  gifts  to  offer.  This  is  a  letter  from  Algarotti,  and 
a  small  box  of  Italian  snuff,  which  he  begs  to  add  as  an  evidence  of 
his  rejoicing  in  your  victories,  f  Here  is  a  letter  from  Voltaire,  and 
one  from  Lord  Marshal. " 

"FVom  all  my  distant  friends — they  have  all  thought  of  me,"  said 
Frederick,  as  he  took  the  letters. 

"  But  I  have  no  time  to  read  letters  now ;  we  will  have  music, 
and  if  agreeable  to  you,  messieurs,  we  will  practise  a  quartet  which 
I  composed  during  my  solitude  these  last  few  days. " 

"Let  us  try  it,"  said  Quantz.  carelessly  opening  the  piano. 

Frederick  went  to  his  room  to  seek  his  note-book,  and  place  his 
letters  upon  the  table,  but,  before  he  returned,  lie  called  the  marquis 

to  him. 

*  Poctis,  "  Frederick  the  Oreat  and  his  Friends." 
tlbld. 


WINTER  QUARTERS  IN  BRESLAU.  261 

"D'Argeng, "  said  he,  "may  I  not  thank  you  for  this  agreeable 
Burprise?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  proposed  it,  and  took  the  responsibility  upon  myself. 
If  your  majesty  is  displeased,  I  am  the  only  culprit !" 

"And  why  have  you  made  yourself  the  postilion,  and  brought 
me  all  these  letters,  marquis?" 

"Sire,  because — " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  marquis, "  said  Frederick,  with  a  loving  glance, 
and  laying  his  hand  upon  D'Argens'  shoulder;  "you  did  this,  be- 
cause you  knew  my  poor  heart  had  received  a  deep  wound,  and  you 
wished  to  heal  it.  You  wished  to  surround  me  with  many  friends, 
and  make  me  forget  the  one  who  fails,  and  who  betrayed  me.  I 
thank  you,  marquis !  Yours  is  a  great  heart,  and  I  believe  your 
balsam  has  magic  in  it.  I  thank  you  for  this  hour,  it  has  done  me 
good  ;  and  though  the  world  may  succeed  in  poisoning  my  heart,  I 
will  never — never  distrust  you  ;  I  will  never  forget  this  hour !" 

"And  now,  messieurs,"  said  Frederick,  as  he  returned  to  the 
musicians,  "we  will  take  our  parts,  and  you,  Quantz,  take  your 
place  at  the  piano. " 

The  concert  began.  Frederick  stood  behind  the  piano,  at  which 
Quantz  sat ;  Graun  and  Fasch  had  withdrawn  to  the  window,  in 
order  to  enjoy  the  music,  as  Frederick  was  first  to  play  a  solo  on  his 
flute,  with  a  simple  piano  accompaniment. 

The  king  played  artistically,  and  with  a  rare  enthusiasm.  The 
marquis  was  in  ecstasy,  and  Graun  uttered  a  few  low  bravos.  Sud- 
denly, all  the  musicians  shuddered,  and  Quantz  was  heard  to  mutter 
angrily.  The  king  had  committed  a  great  fault  in  his  composition 
— a  fault  against  the  severest  rules  of  art.  He  played  on,  however, 
quietly,  and  said,  when  he  had  completed  the  page — ^^ Da  capo!" 
and  recommenced.  Again  came  the  false  notes,  frightful  to  the  ears 
of  musicians.  And  now  Graun  and  Fasch  could  not  keep  time. 
The  king  held  his  breath. 

"  Go  on,  Quantz, "  said  he,  zealously,  placing  the  flute  again  to 
his  lips. 

Quantz  cast  a  sullen  look  at  him. 

"As  your  majesty  pleases,"  said  he,  and  he  played  so  fiercely 
that  Graun  and  Fasch  shivered,  and  Quantz  himself  whistled  to 
drown  the  discord.  The  unlearned  marquis  looked  in  blessed  igno- 
rance upon  his  royal  friend,  and  the  beautiful  music  brought  tears 
to  his  eyes.    When  the  piece  was  ended,  the  king  said  to  Quantz : 

"Do  you  find  this  text  false?" 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  it  is  false !" 

"And  you  two  also  believe  it  false?" 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  it  is  false!"  said  Graun  and  Fasch. 


262   FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  But,  if  the  composer  will  have  it  so?" 

"It  is  still  false  !"  said  Quantz,  sullenly. 

"But  if  it  pleases  me,  and  I  think  it  melodious?" 

"  Your  majesty  can  never  find  it  so, "  said  Quantz,  angrily,  "  The 
notes  are  false,  and  what  is  false  can  never  please  your  majesty. " 

"Well,  well!"  said  the  king,  good-humoredly ;  "don't  be  quite 
so  angry  I  it  is,  after  all,  not  a  lost  battle  !  *  If  this  passage  is  im- 
possible, we  will  strike  it  out. " 

"  If  your  majesty  does  that,  it  will  be  a  beautiful  composition, 
and  I  would  be  proud  myself  to  have  composed  it. " 

The  king  smiled,  well  pleased.  It  was  evident  that  this  praise  of 
his  proud  and  stem  master  was  most  acceptable  to  the  hero  of 
Leuthen  and  Rossbach. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE     BROKEN     HEART. 

A  CARRIAGE  stopped  before  the  pleasure  palace  of  Oranienburg. 
The  lady  who  sat  in  it,  cast  anxious,  questioning  glances  at  the 
windows,  and  breathed  a  heavy  sigh  when  she  saw  the  closed  shut- 
ters, and  observed  the  absence  of  life  and  movement  in  the  palace. 
At  this  moment  an  officer  stepped  hastily  from  the  great  portal  to 
greet  the  lady,  and  assist  her  to  descend. 

"  Does  he  still  live?"  said  she,  breathlessly. 

"He  lives,  countess,  and  awaits  you  eagerly !"  said  the  officer. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  raised  her  large,  melancholy  eyes  thank- 
fully to  heaven,  and  her  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer. 

They  stepped  silently  and  rapidly  through  the  dazzling  saloons, 
now  drear  and  deserted.  Their  pomp  and  splendor  was  painful ;  it 
harmonized  but  little  with  their  sad  presentiments. 

"  We  have  arrived,  countess, "  said  the  officer,  as  they  stood  be- 
fore a  closed  and  thickly-curtained  door.  "  The  prince  is  in  this 
garden-saloon. " 

The  lady's  heart  beat  loudly,  and  her  lips  were  pale  as  death. 
She  leaned  for  a  moment  against  the  door,  and  tried  to  gather 
strength. 

"  I  am  ready !  announce  roe  to  the  prince  !" 

"  That  is  unnecessary,  countess.  The  prince's  nerves  are  so  sen- 
sitive, that  the  slightest  noise  does  not  escape  him.  He  heard  the 
rolling  of  your  carriage- wheels,  and  knows  that  you  are  here.  He 
is  expecting  you,  and  has  commanded  that  you  come  unannounced. 

♦  The  kingo  owg  v.  ?rds. 


THE  BROKEN  HEART.  263 

Have  the  goodness  to  enter ;  you  will  be  alone  with  the  prince. " 
He  raised  the  curtain,  and  the  countess  looked  back  once  more. 

"Is  there  any  hope?"  said  she,  to  her  companion. 

"  None  !    The  physician  says  he  must  die  to-day  !" 

The  countess  opened  the  door  so  noiselessly,  that  not  the  slightest 
sound  betrayed  her  presence.  She  sank  upon  a  chair  neai*  the 
entrance,  and  fixed  her  tearful  eyes  with  inexpressible  agony  upon^ 
the  pale  form,  which  lay  upon  the  bed,  ndar  the  open  door,  leading 
into  the  garden. 

What ! — this  wan,  emaciated  figure,  that  countenance  of  deadly 
pallor,  those  fallen  cheeks,  those  bloodless  lips,  the  hollow  temples, 
thinly  shaded  by  the  lifeless,  colorless  hair — was  that  Augustus 
William? — the  lover  of  her  youth,  the  worshipped  dream-picture  of 
her  whole  life,  the  never-effaced  ideal  of  her  faithful  heart? 

As  she  looked  upon  him,  the  sweetly-painful,  sad,  and  yet  glori- 
ous past,  seemed  to  fill  her  soul.  She  felt  that  her  heart  was  young, 
and  beat,  even  now,  as  ardently  for  him  who  lay  dying  before  her, 
as  in  the  early  time,  when  they  stood  side  by  side  in  the  fulness  of 
youth,  beauty,  and  strength — when  they  stood  side  by  side  for  the 
last  time. 

At  that  time,  she  died!  Youth,  happiness,  heart  Avere  buried; 
but  now,  as  she  looked  upon  him,  the  coffin  unclosed,  the  shroud 
fell  back,  and  the  immortal  spirits  greeted  each  other  with  the  love 
of  the  olden  time. 

And  now,  Laura  wept  no  more.  Enthusiasm,  inspiration  were 
written  upon  her  face.  She  felt  no  earthly  pain  ;  the  heavenly  peace 
of  the  resurrection  morning  filled  her  soul.  She  arose  and  ap- 
proached the  prince.  He  did  not  see  her ;  his  eyes  were  closed. 
Perhaps  he  slumbered ;  perhaps  the  king  of  terrors  had  already 
pressed  his  first  bewildering  kiss  upon  the  pale  brow.  Laui-a  bent 
over  and  looked  upon  him.  Her  long,  dark  ringlets  fell  around  his 
face  like  a  mourning  veil.  She  listened  to  his  light  breathing,  and, 
bowing  lower,  kissed  the  poor,  wan  lips. 

He  opened  his  eyes  very  quietly,  without  surprise.  Peacefully, 
joyfully  he  looked  up  at  her.  And  Laura — she  asked  no  longer  if 
that  wasted  form  could  be  the  lover  of  her  youth.  In  his  eyes  she 
found  the  long-lost  treasure — the  love,  the  youth,  the  soul  of  the 
glorious  past. 

Slowly  the  prince  raised  his  arms,  and  drew  her  toward  him. 
She  sank  down,  and  laid  her  head  by  his  cold  cheek.  Her  hot  breath 
wafted  him  a  new  life-current,  and  seemed  to  call  back  his  soul 
from  the  spirit-world. 

For  a  long  time  no  word  was  spoken.  How  could  they  speak,  in 
this  first  consecrated  moment?    They  felt  so  much,  that  language 


264       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

failed.  They  lay  heart  to  heart,  and  only  God  understood  their 
hollow  sighs,  their  unspoken  prayers,  their  suppressed  tears.  Only 
God  was  with  them !  God  sent  through  the  open  doors  the  fresh 
fragrance  of  the  flowers;  He  sent  the  winds.  His  messengers,  through 
the  tall  trees,  and  their  wild,  melancholy  voices  were  like  a  solemn 
organ,  accompanying  love's  last  hymn.  In  the  distant  thickets  the 
nightingale  raised  her  melancholy  notes,  for  love's  last  greeting. 
Thus  eternal  Nature  greets  the  dying  sons  of  men. 

God  was  with  His  children.  Their  thoughts  were  prayers ;  their 
eyes,  which  at  first  were  fixed  upon  each  other,  now  turned  plead- 
ingly to  heaven. 

"  I  shall  soon  be  there  !"  said  Prince  Augustus — "  soon  1 1  shall  live 
a  tioie  life,  and  thi.s  struggle  with  death  will  soon  be  over.  For 
sixteen  yeai^s  I  have  been  slowly  dying,  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour. 
Laui*a,  it  has  been  sixteen  years,  has  it  not?" 

She  bowed  silently. 

"  No, "  said  he,  gazing  earaestly  upon  her ;  "  it  was  but  yesterday. 
I  know  now  that  it  was  but  yesterday.  You  are  just  the  same — un- 
changed, my  Laura.  This  is  the  same  angel-face  which  I  have 
can-ied  in  my  heart.  Nothing  is  changed,  and  I  thank  God  for  it. 
It  would  have  been  a  great  grief  to  look  upon  you  and  find  a 
strange  face  by  my  side.  This  is  my  Laura,  my  own  Laura,  who 
left  me  sixteen  years  ago.  And  now,  look  at  me  steadily ;  see 
what  life  has  made  of  me ;  see  how  it  has  mastered  me — tortured 
me  to  death  with  a  thousand  wounds !  I  call  no  man  my  mur 
derer,  but  I  die  of  these  woimds.  Oh,  Laura  I  why  did  you  for- 
sake me?  Wliy  did  you  not  leave  this  miserable,  hypocritical, 
weary  world  of  civilization,  and  follow  me  to  the  New  World,  where 
the  happiness  of  a  true  life  awaited  us?" 

"  I  dared  not, "  said  she ;  "  God  demanded  this  offering  of  me, 
and  because  I  loved  you  boundlessly  I  was  strong  to  submit.  God 
also  knows  what  it  cost  me,  and  how  these  many  years  I  have  strug- 
gled with  my  heart,  and  tried  to  learn  to  forget." 

"  Struggle  no  longer,  Laura,  I  am  dying ;  when  I  am  dead  you 
dare  not  forget  me. " 

She  embraced  him  with  soft  tenderness. 

"No,  no,"  whispered  she,  "God  is  merciful!  He  will  not  rob 
me  of  the  only  consolation  of  my  joyless,  solitary  life.  I  had  only 
this.  To  think  he  lives,  he  breathes  the  same  air,  he  looks  up  into 
the  same  heavens — the  same  quiet  stars  greet  him  and  me.  And  a 
day  will  come  in  which  millions  of  men  will  shout  and  call  him 
their  king  ;  and  when  I  look  upon  his  handsome  face,  and  see  him 
in  the  midst  of  his  people,  surrounded  by  pomp  and  splendor,  I  dare 
say  to  myself.  That  is  my  work.     I  loved  him  more  than  I  loved  my- 


THE  BROKEN  HEART.  265 

self,  therefore  he  wears  a  crown— I  had  the  courage  not  only  to  die 
for  him,  but  to  live  without  him,  and  therefore  is  he  a  king.  Oh, 
my  beloved,  say  not  that  you  are  dying  !" 

"  K  you  love  me  truly,  Laura,  you  will  not  wish  me  to  live.  In- 
deed I  have  long  been  dying.  For  sixteen  years  I  have  felt  the 
death-worm  in  my  heart — it  gnaws  and  gnaws.  I  have  tried  to 
crush  it — I  wished  to  live,  because  I  had  promised  you  to  bear  my 
burden.  I  wished  to  prove  myself  a  man.  I  gave  the  love  which 
you  laid  at  my  feet,  bathed  in  our  tears  and  our  blood,  to  my  father- 
land. I  was  told  that  I  must  marry,  to  promote  the  interest  of  my 
couutiy,  and  I  did  so.  I  laid  a  mask  over  my  face,  and  a  mask  over 
my  heart.  I  wished  to  play  my  part  in  the  drama  of  life  to  the  end  ; 
I  wished  to  honor  my  royal  bix-th  to  which  fate  had  condemned  me. 
But  it  appears  I  was  a  bad  actor.  I  was  cast  out  from  my  service, 
my  gay  uniform  and  royal  star  torn  from  my  breast.  I,  a  prince, 
w£is  sent  home  a  humiliated,  degraded,  ragged  beggar.  I  crept  with 
my  misery  and  my  shame  into  this  comer,  and  no  one  followed  me. 
No  one  showed  a  spark  of  love  for  the  poor,  spumed  cast-away. 
Love  would  have  enabled  me  to  overcome  all,  to  defy  the  world,  and 
to  oppose  its  slanders  boldly.  I  was  left  alone  to  bear  my  shame  and 
my  despair — wholly  alone.  I  have  a  wife,  I  have  children,  and  I 
am  alone ;  they  live  far  away  from  me,  and  at  the  moment  of  my 
death  they  will  smile  and  be  happy.  I  am  the  heir  of  a  throne,  but 
a  poor  beggar ;  I  asked  only  of  fate  a  little  love,  but  I  asked  in 
vain.  Fate  had  no  pity — only  when  I  am  dead  will  I  be  a  prince 
again  ;  then  they  will  heap  honors  upon  my  dead  body.  Oh,  Laura ! 
how  it  burns  in  my  heart — how  terrible  is  this  hell-fire  of  shame ! 
It  eats  up  the  marrow  of  my  bones  and  devours  my  brain.  Oh,  my 
head,  my  head  !  how  terrible  is  this  pain  !" 

With  a  loud  sob  he  sank  back  on  the  pillow ;  his  eyes  closed, 
great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  brow,  and  the  breath  seemed  strug- 
gling in  his  breast. 

Laura  bowed  over  him,  she  wiped  away  the  death-sweat  with 
her  hair,  and  hot  tears  fell  on  the  poor  wan  face.  These  teai-s 
aroused  him — he  opened  his  eyes. 

" I  have  got  something  to  say, "  whispered  he ;  "I  feel  that  I  shall 
soon  be  well.  When  the  world  says  of  me,  'He  is  dead,'  I  shall 
have  just  awaked  from  death.  There  above  begins  the  true  life ; 
what  is  here  so  called  is  only  a  pitiful  prologue.  We  live  here  only 
that  we  may  learn  to  wish  for  death.  Oh,  my  Laura !  I  shall  soon 
live,  love,  and  be  happy. " 

"Oh,  take  me  with  you,  my  beloved,"  cried  Laura,  kneeling  be- 
fore him,  dissolved  in  tears.     "Leave  me  not  alone— it  is  so  sad,  so 
solitary  in  this  cold  world  I    Take  me  with  you,  my  beloved !" 
18 


266       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

He  heard  her  not!  Death  had  already  touched  him  with  the 
point  of  his  dark  wings,  and  spread  his  mantle  over  him.  His 
epiri't  struggled  with  the  exhausted  body  and  panted  to  escape.  He 
no  longer  heard  when  Laura  called,  but  he  still  lived :  his  eyes  were 
wide  open  and  he  spoke  again.  But  they  were  single,  disconnected 
words,  which  belonged  to  the  dreamland  and  the  forms  of  the  in- 
visible world  which  his  almost  disembodied  spirit  now  looked  upon. 

Once  he  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  and  this  time  he  looked  with  full 
consciousness  upon  Laura,  "  I  close  my  life — a  life  of  son-ow.  Win- 
terfeldt  has  shortened  my  days,  but  I  die  content  in  knowing  that  so 
bad,  so  dangerous  a  man  is  no  longer  in  the  ai'my. "  * 

His  mind  wandered,  and  he  thought  he  was  on  the  battle-field, 
and  called  out,  loudly  : 

"  Forward  I  forward  to  the  death  I" 

Then  all  was  still  but  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  sighing  winds. 

Laura  knelt  and  prayed.  When  she  turned  her  glance  from  the 
cloudless  heavens  upon  her  beloved,  his  countenance  was  changed. 
There  was  a  glory  about  it,  and  his  great,  wide-opened  eyes  flashed 
with  inspiration ;  he  raised  his  dying  head  and  greeted  the  trees 
and  flowers  with  his  last  glance. 

"How  beautiful  is  the  world  when  one  is  about  to  die,"  said  he, 
with  a  sweet  smile.     "  Farewell,  world !    Farewell,  Laura !    Come, 

*  The  prince's  own  words.  He  died  the  12th  of  June,  1758,  at  thirty-six  years  of 
age.  As  his  adjutant.  Von  Hagen,  brought  the  news  of  bis  death  to  the  king, 
Frederick  asked,  "  Of  what  disease  did  my  brother  die  ?"  "  Grief  and  shame  short- 
tened  his  life," said  the  officer.  Frederick  turned  his  back  on  him  without  a  reply, 
and  Von  Hagen  was  never  promoted. 

The  king  erected  a  monument  to  Winterfeldt,  Ziethen,  and  Schwerin,  but  he  left 
it  to  his  brother  Henry  to  erect  one  to  the  Prince  of  Prussia.  This  was  done  in 
Beinenz,  where  a  lofty  pyramid  was  built  in  honor  of  the  heroes  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War.  The  names  of  all  the  generals,  and  all  the  battles  they  had  gained  were  en- 
graven upon  it,  and  it  was  crowned  by  a  bust  of  Augustus  William,  the  great-grand- 
father of  the  present  King  of  Prussia. 

The  king  erected  a  statue  to  Winterfeldt,  and  forgot  his  brother,  and  now  Prince 
Henry  forgot  to  place  Winterfeldfs  name  among  the  heroes  of  the  war.  When  the 
monument  was  completed,  the  prince  made  a  speech,  which  was  full  of  enthu- 
siastic praise  of  his  beloved  brother,  so  early  numbered  with  the  dead.  Prince  Henry 
betrayed  by  insinuation  the  strifes  and  dilBculties  which  always  reigned  between  the 
king  and  himself ;  he  did  not  allude  to  the  king  during  his  speech,  and  did  not  class 
him  among  the  heroes  of  the  Seven  Years'  War. 

Id  speaking  of  the  necessity  of  a  monument  in  memory  of  his  best  beloved  brother, 
Augustus  William,  he  alluded  to  the  statue  of  Winterfeldt,  and  added:  "  L'abus  des 
richesses  et  du  pouvoir  61dve  des  statues  de  marbre  et  de  bronze  &  ceuz  qui  n'6taient 
pas  dignes  de  passer  &  la  post6rit6  sous  Tembldme  de  Thonneur."— Roullle's  "  Vie 
du  Prince  Henry." 

Recently  a  signal  honor  has  been  shown  to  Prince  Augustus  William,  his  statue 
has  the  principal  place  on  the  monument  erected  in  honor  of  Frederick  the  Great 
in  Berlin. —Roullle. 


THE  BROKEN  HEART.    ^  267 

take  me  in  your  arms — let  me  die  in  the  arms  of  love  !  Hate  has  its 
reign  in  this  world,  but  love  goes  down  with  us  into  the  cold  grave. 
Farewell ! — farewell ! — farewell !" 

His  head  fell  upon  Laura's  shoulder;  one  last  gasp,  one  last 
shudder,  and  the  heir  of  a  throne,  the  future  ruler  of  millions,  was 
nothing  but  a  corpse. 

The  trees  whispered  gayly — no  cloud  shadowed  the  blue  heavens ; 
the  birds  sang,  the  flowers  bloomed,  and  yet  in  that  eventful  moment 
a  prince  was  bom,  a  pardoned  soul  was  wafted  to  the  skies. 

Love  pressed  the  last  kiss  upon  the  poor,  wan  lips ;  love  closed 
the  weary  eyes  ;  love  wept  over  him  ;  love  prayed  for  his  soul. 

"  Hate  has  her  reign  in  this  poor  world,  love  goes  down  with  us 
into  the  dark  tomb. " 


BOOK    lY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  KING  AND  HIS  OLD  AND  NEW  ENEMIES. 

Three  years,  three  long,  terrible  years  had  passed  since  the  be- 
ginning of  this  fearful  war  ;  since  King  Frederick  of  Prussia  had 
stood  alone,  without  any  ally  but  distant  England,  opposed  by  all 
Europe. 

These  three  years  had  somewhat  undeceived  the  proud  and  self- 
confident  enemies  of  Frederick.  The  pope  still  called  him  the  Mar- 
quis of  Brandenburg,  and  the  German  emperor  declared  that,  not- 
withstanding the  adverse  circumstances  threatening  him  on  every 
side,  the  King  of  Prussia  was  still  a  brave  and  undaunted  adversary. 
His  enemies,  after  having  for  a  long  time  declared  that  they  would 
extinguish  him  and  reduce  him  once  more  to  the  rank  of  the  little 
Prince -Elector  of  Brandenburg,  now  began  to  fear  him.  From 
every  battle,  from  every  eflfort,  from  every  defeat,  King  Frederick 
rose  up  with-  a  clear  brow  and  flashing  eye,  and  unshaken  courage. 
Even  the  lost  battles  did  not  cast  a  shadow  upon  the  lustre  of  his 
victories.  In  both  the  one  and  the  other  he  had  shown  himself  a 
hero,  greater  even  after  the  battles  in  his  composure  and  decision, 
in  his  imconquerable  energy,  in  the  circumspection  and  presence  of 
mind  by  which  he  grasped  at  a  glance  all  the  surroundings,  and 
converted  the  most  threatening  into  favorable  circumstances.  After 
a  great  victory  his  enemies  might  indeed  say  they  had  conquered 
the  King  of  Prussia,  but  never  that  they  had  subdued  him.  He 
stood  ever  undaunted,  ever  ready  for  the  contest,  prepared  to  attack 
them  when  they  least  expected  it ;  to  take  advantage  of  every  weak 
point,  and  to  profit  by  every  incautious  movement.  The  fallen 
ranks  of  his  brave  soldiers  appeared  to  be  dragons'  teeth,  which 
produced  armed  warriors. 

In  the  camps  of  the  allied  Austrians,  Saxons,  and  Russians  hun- 
ger and  sickness  prevailed.  In  Vienna,  Petersburg,  and  Dresden, 
the  costs  and  burden  of  the  war  were  felt  to  be  almost  insupportable. 
The  Prussian  army  was  healthy,  their  magazines  well  stocked,  and, 
thanks  to  the  English  subsidy,  the  treasury  seemed  Ine^fhaustible, 


THE  KING  AND  HIS  OLD  AND  NEW  ENEMIES.     269 

Three  years,  as  we  have  said,  of  never-ceasing  struggle  had  gone 
by.  The  heroic  brow  of  the  great  Frederick  had  been  wreathed 
with  new  laurels.  The  battles  of  Losovitz,  of  Rossbach,  of  Leuthen, 
and  of  Zomdorf  were  such  dazzling  victories  that  they  were  not  even 
obscured  by  the  defeats  of  Collin  and  Hochkirch.  The  allies  made 
their  shouts  of  victory  i-esound  throughout  all  Europe,  and  used 
every  means  to  produce  the  impression  upon  the  armies  and  the 
people  that  these  victories  were  decisive. 

Another  fearful  enemy,  armed  with  words  of  Holy  Writ,  wa?. 
now  added  to  the  list  of  those  who  had  attacked  him  with  the  sword. 
This  new  adversary  was  Pope  Clement  XIII.  He  mounted  the  apos- 
tolic throne  in  May,  1758,  and  immediately  declared  himself  the 
in-econcilable  foe  of  the  little  Marquis  of  Brandenburg,  who  had 
dared  to  hold  up  throughout  Prussia  all  superstition  and  bigotrj-  to 
mockery  and  derision ;  who  had  illuminated  the  holy  gloom  and 
obscurity  of  the  church  with  the  clear  light  of  reason  and  truth ; 
who  misused  the  priests  and  religious  orders,  and  welcomed  and 
assisted  in  Prussia  all  those  whom  the  holy  mother  Catholic  Church 
banished  for  heresies  and  unbelief. 

Benedict,  the  predecessor  of  the  present  pope,  was  also  known  to 
have  been  the  enemy  of  Frederick,  but  he  was  wise  enough  to  be 
silent  and  not  draw  down  upon  the  cloisters,  and  colleges,  and 
Catholics  of  Prussia  the  rage  of  the  king. 

But  Clement,  in  his  fanatical  zeal,  was  not  satisfied  to  pursue 
this  course.  He  was  resolved  to  do  battle  against  this  heretical 
king.  He  fulminated  the  anathemas  of  the  church  and  bitter  im- 
precations against  him,  and  showered  down  words  of  blessing  and 
salvation  upon  all  those  who  declared  themselves  his  foes.  Because 
of  this  fanatical  hatred,  Austria  received  a  new  honor,  a  new  title 
from  the  hands  of  the  pope.  As  a  reward  for  her  enmity  to  this 
atheistical  marquis,  and  the  great  service  which  she  had  rendered 
in  this  war,  the  pope  bestowed  the  title  of  apostolic  majesty  upon 
the  empress  and  her  successors.  Not  only  the  royal  house  of  Aus- 
tria, but  the  generals  and  the  whole  army  of  pious  and  believing 
Christians,  should  know  and  feel  that  the  blessing  of  the  po^je 
rested  upon  their  arms,  protecting  them  from  adversity  and  de- 
feat. The  glorious  victory  of  Hochkirch  must  be  solemnly  cele- 
brated, and  the  armies  of  the  allies  incited  to  more  daring  deeds  of 
arms. 

For  this  reason,  Pope  Clement  sent  to  Field-Marshal  Daun,  who 
had  commanded  at  the  battle  of  Hochkirch,  a  consecrated  hat  and 
sword,  thus  changing  this  political  into  a  religious  war.  It  was  no 
longer  a  question  of  earthly  possessions,  but  a  holy  contest  against 
an  heretical  enemy  of  mother  church.     Up  to  this  time,  these  conse- 


270       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

crated  gifts  had  been  only  bestowed  upon  generals  who  had  already 
subdued  unbelievers  or  subjugated  barbarians.* 

But  King  Frederick  of  Prussia  laughed  at  these  attacks  of  God's 
vicegerent.  To  his  enemies,  armed  with  the  sword,  he  opposed  his 
own  glittering  blade  ;  to  his  popish  enemy,  armed  with  the  tongue 
and  the  pen,  he  opposed  the  same  weapons.  He  met  the  first  in  the 
open  field,  the  last  in  winter  quarters,  through  those  biting,  mock- 
ing, keen  Fliegenden  Bldttem,  which  at  that  time  made  all  Europe 
roar  with  laughter,  and  crushed  and  brought  to  nothing  the  great 
deeds  of  the  pope  by  the  curse  of  ridicule. 

The  consecrated  hat  and  sword  of  Field -Marshal  Daun  lost  its 
value  through  the  letter  of  thanks  from  Daun  to  the  pope,  which  the 
king  intercepted,  and  which,  even  in  Austria,  was  laughed  at  and 
made  sport  of. 

The  congratulatory  letter  of  the  Princess  Soubise  to  Daun  was 
also  made  public,  and  produced  general  merriment. 

When  the  pope  called  Frederick  the  "heretical  Marchese  di 
Brandenburgo, "  the  king  returned  the  compliment  by  calling  him 
the  "Grand  Lama, "  and  delighted  himself  over  the  assumed  infalli- 
bility of  the  vicegerent  of  the  Most  High. 

But  the  king  not  only  scourged  the  pope  with  his  satirical  pen — 
the  modest  and  prudish  Empress  Maria  Theresa  was  also  the  victim 
of  his  wit.  He  wrote  a  letter,  supposed  to  be  from  the  Marquise  de 
Pompadour  to  the  Queen  of  Himgary,  in  which  the  inexplicable 
friendship  between  the  virtuous  empress  and  the  luxurious  mistress 
of  Louis  was  mischievously  portrayed.  This  letter  of  Frederick's 
was  spread  abroad  in  every  direction,  and  people  were  not  only 
naive  enough  to  read  it,  but  to  believe  it  genuine.  The  Austrian 
court  saw  itself  forced  to  the  public  declaration  that  all  these  lettei-s 
were  false ;  that  Field-Marshal  Daun  had  not  received  a  consecrated 
wig,  but  a  hat ;  and  that  the  empress  had  never  received  a  letter  of 
this  character  f om  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour,  f 

These  Fliegende  Bldttem,  as  we  have  said,  were  the  weapons 
with  which  King  Frederick  fought  against  his  enemies  when  the 
rough,  inclement  winter  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  meet  them 
in  the  open  field.  In  the  winter  quarters  in  1758  most  of  those  let- 
ters appeared  ;  and  no  one  but  the  Marquis  d'Argens,  the  most  faith- 

♦  (Euvrea  Posthumes,  toI.  ill. 

t  In  this  letter  the  marquise  complained  bitterly  that  the  empress  had  made  it 
Impossible  for  her  to  hasten  to  Vienna  and  offer  her  the  homage,  the  love,  the  friend- 
ship she  cherished  for  her  in  her  heart.  The  empress  bad  established  a  court  of  vir- 
tue and  modesty  in  Vienna,  and  this  tribunal  could  hardly  receive  the  Pompadour 
graciously.  The  marquise,  therefore,  entreated  the  empress  to  execute  judgment 
against  this  fearful  tribunal  of  virtue,  and  to  bow  to  the  yoke  of  the  omnipotent  god- 
dess Venus.  All  these  letters  can  be  seen  in  the  "Supplement  aux  CEuvres  Poa- 
thimies." 


THE  KING  AND  HIS  OLD  AND  NEW  ENEMIES.     271 

ful  friend  of  Frederick,  guessed  who  was  the  author  of  these  hated 
and  feared  satires. 

The  enemies  of  the  king  also  made  use  of  this  winter  rest  to  make 
every  possible  aggression ;  they  had  their  acquaintances  and  spies 
throughout  Grermany ;  under  various  pretences  and  disguises,  they 
were  scattered  abroad — even  in  the  highest  court  circles  of  Berlin 
they  were  zealously  at  work.  By  flattery,  and  bribery,  and  glitter- 
ing promises,  they  made  friends  and  adherents,  and  in  the  capital 
of  Prussia  they  found  ready  supporters  and  informers.  They  were 
not  satisfied  with  this — they  were  haughty  and  bold  enough  to  seek 
for  allies  among  the  Prussians,  and  hoped  to  obtain  entrance  into 
the  walls  of  the  cities,  and  possession  of  the  fortresses  by  treachery. 

The  Austrian  and  Russian  prisoners  confined  in  the  fortress  of 
Kiistrin  conspired  to  give  it  up  to  the  enemy.  The  number  of  Rus- 
sian prisoners  sent  to  the  fortress  of  Kiistrin  after  the  battle  of 
Zomdorf ,  was  twice  as  numerous  as  the  garrison,  and  if  they  could 
succeed  in  getting  possession  of  the  hundred  cannon  captured  at 
Zomdorf,  and  placed  as  victorious  trophies  in  the  market-place,  it 
would  be  an  easy  thing  to  fall  upon  and  overcome  the  garrison. 

This  plan  was  all  arranged,  and  about  to  be  carried  out,  but  it 
was  discovered  the  day  before  its  completion.  The  Prussian  com- 
mander doubled  the  guard  before  the  casemates  in  which  three 
thousand  Russian  prisoners  were  confined,  and  arrested  the  Russian 
oflB-cers.  Their  leader.  Lieutenant  von  Yaden  of  Courland,  was 
accused,  condemned  by  the  court-martial,  and,  by  the  express  com- 
mand of  the  king,  broken  upon  the  wheel.  Even  this  terrible  ex- 
ample bore  little  fruit.  Ever  new  attempts  were  being  made — ever 
new  conspiracies  discovered  amongst  the  prisoners  ;  and  whilst  the 
armies  of  the  allies  were  attacking  Prussia  outwardly,  the  prisoners 
were  carrying  on  a  not  less  dangerous  guerilla  war — the  more  to  be 
feared  because  it  was  secret — not  in  the  open  field  and  by  day,  but 
under  the  shadow  of  night  and  the  veil  of  conspiracy. 

Nowhere  was  this  warfare  carried  on  more  vigorously  than  in 
Berlin.  All  the  French  taken  at  Rossbach,  all  the  Austrians  cap- 
tured at  Leuthen,  and  the  Russian  officers  of  high  rank  taken  at 
Zomdorf,  had  been  sent  by  the  king  to  Berlin.  They  had  the  most 
enlarged  liberty ;  the  whole  city  was  their  prison,  and  only  their 
word  of  honor  bound  them  not  to  leave  the  walls  of  Berlin.  Besides 
this,  all  were  zealous  to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  the  "  poor  captives, " 
and  hjfites  and  genial  amusements  to  make  them  forget  their  cap- 
tivity. The  doors  of  all  the'first  houses  were  opened  to  the  distin- 
guished strangers — everywhere  they  were  welcome  guests,  and  there 
was  no  assembly  at  the  palace  to  which  they  were  not  invited. 

Ev^n  io  tbeee  fearful  times,  balls  and  f^tes  were  given  at  the 


272        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  TAMILY. 

court.  Anxious  and  sad  faces  were  hidden  under  gay  masks,  and 
the  loud  sound  of  music  and  dancing  drowned  the  heavy  sighs  of 
the  desponding.  While  the  Austrians,  Russians,  and  Pi-ussians 
strove  with  each  other  on  the  bloody  battle-field,  the  Berlin  ladies 
danced  the  graceful  Parisienne  dances  with  the  noble  prisoners. 
This  was  now  the  mode. 

Truly  there  were  many  aching  hearts  in  this  gay  and  merry  city, 
but  they  hid  their  grief  and  tears  in  their  quiet,  lonely  chambers, 
and  their  clouded  brows  cast  no  shadow  upon  the  laughing,  rosy 
faces  of  the  beautiful  women  whose  brothers,  husbands,  and  lovers, 
were  far  away  on  the  bloody  battle-field  If  not  exactly  willing  to 
accept  these  strangers  as  substitutes,  they  were  at  least  glad  to  seek 
distraction  in  their  society.  After  all,  it  is  impossible  to  be  always 
mourning,  always  complaining,  always  leading  a  cloistered  life. 
In  the  beginning,  the  oath  of  constancy  and  remembrance,  which 
all  had  sworn  at  parting,  had  been  religiously  preserved,  and  Berlin 
had  the  physiognomy  of  a  lovely,  interesting,  but  dejected  widow, 
who  knew  and  wished  to  know  nothing  of  the  joys  of  life.  But 
suddenly  Nature  had  asserted  her  own  inexorable  laws,  which  teach 
forgetfulness  and  inspire  hope.  Tlie  bitterest  tears  were  dried — 
the  heaviest  sighs  suppressed  ;  people  had  learned  to  reconcile  them- 
selves to  life,  and  to  snatch  eagerly  at  every  ray  of  sunshine  which 
could  illumine  the  cold,  hopeless  desert,  which  surrounded  them. 
They  had  seen  that  it  was  quite  possible  to  live  comfortably,  even 
while  wild  war  was  blustering  and  raging  without — that  weak,  frail 
human  nature,  refused  to  be  ever  strained,  ever  excited,  in  the  ex- 
pectation of  great  events.  In  the  course  of  these  three  fearful  years, 
even  the  saddest  had  learned  again  to  laugh,  jest,  and  be  gay,  in 
spite  of  death  and  defeat.  They  loved  their  fatherland— they  shouted 
loudly  and  joyfully  over  the  great  victories  of  their  king — they 
grieved  sincerely  over  his  defeats ;  but  they  could  not  carry  their 
animosities  so  far  as  to  be  cold  and  strange  to  the  captive  officers 
who  were  compelled  by  the  chances  of  war  to  remain  in  Berlin. 
They  had  so  long  striven  not  to  seek  to  revenge  themselves  upon  these 
]x)werless  captives,  that  they  had  at  last  truly  forgotten  they  were 
enemies;  and  these  handsome,  entertaining,  captivating,  gallant 
gentlemen  were  no  longer  looked  upon  even  as  prisoners,  but  as 
strangers  and  travellers,  and  therefore  they  should  receive  the  honors 
of  the  city.* 

The  king  commanded  that  these  officers  should  receive  all  atten- 
tion. It  was  also  the  imperative  will  of  the  king  that  court  balls 
should  be  given  ;  he  wished  to  prove  to  the  world  that  his  family 
were  neither  sad  nor  dispirited,  but  gay,  bold,  and  hopeful. 

♦Sulzer  writes:  "  The  prisoners  of  war  are  treated  h^r^  ^  Utbey  w?re  tlisHi)- 
^uisbed  travellers  and  visitor?," 


THE  THRB^  OFFICERS.  273 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  THREE  OFFICERS. 

It  was  the  spring  of  1759.  Winter  quarters  were  broken  up,  and 
it  was  said  the  king  had  left  Breslau  and  advanced  boldly  to  meet 
the  enemy.  The  Berlin  journals  contained  accounts  of  combats  and 
skirmishes  which  had  taken  place  here  and  there  between  the  Prus- 
sians and  the  allies,  and  in  which,  it  appeared,  the  Prussians  had 
always  been  unfortunate. 

Three  captive  officers  sat  in  an  elegant  room  of  a  house  near  the 
castle,  and  conversed  upon  the  news  of  the  day,  and  stared  at  the 
morning  journals  which  lay  before  them  on  the  table. 

"I  beg  you,"  said  one  of  them  in  French — "I  beg  you  will  have 
the  goodness  to  translate  this  sentence  for  me.  I  think  it  has  rela- 
tion to  Prince  Henry,  but  I  find  it  impossible  to  decipher  this  bar- 
barous dialect. "  He  handed  the  journal  to  his  neighbor,  and  pointed 
with  his  finger  to  the  paragraph. 

"Yes,  there  is  something  about  Prince  Henry,"  said  the  other, 
with  a  peculiar  accent  which  betrayed  the  Russian  ;  "  and  something. 
Monsieur  Belleville,  which  will  greatly  interest  you. " 

"Oh,  I  beseech  you  to  read  it  to  us,"  said  the  Frenchman,  some- 
what impatiently  ;  then,  turning  graciously  to  the  third  gentleman 
who  sat  silent  and  indifferent  near  him,  he  added  :  "  We  must  first 
ascertain,  however,  if  om-  kind  host,  Monsieur  le  Comte  di  Ranuzi, 
consents  to  the  reading. " 

"  I  gladly  take  part, "  said  the  Italian  count,  "  in  any  thing  that 
is  interesting ;  above  all,  in  every  thing  which  has  no  relation  to 
this  wearisome  and  stupid  Berlin. " 

"  Vraiment !  you  are  right, "  sighed  the  Frenchman.  "It  is  a 
dreary  and  ceremonious  region.  They  are  so  inexpressibly  prudish 
and  virtuous — so  filled  with  old-fashioned  scruples — led  captive  by 
such  little  prejudices — that  I  should  be  greatly  amused  at  it,  if  I  did 
not  suffer  daily  from  the  dead  monotonj^  it  brings.  What  would 
the  enchanting  misti'ess  of  France — what  would  the  Marquise  de 
Pompadour  say,  if  she  could  see  r?ie,  the  gay,  witty,  merry  Belleville, 
conversing  with  such  an  asi)ect  of  pious  gravity  with  this  poor 
Queen  of  Prussia,  who  makes  a  face  if  one  alludes  to  La  Pucelle 
d' Orleans,  and  wishes  to  make  it  appear  that  she  has  not  read 
Crebillon !" 

"  Tell  me,  now,  Giurgenow,  how  is  it  with  your  court  of  Peters- 
burg?   Is  it  as  formal,  as  ceremonious  as  here  in  Prussia?" 

Giiirgenpw  laughed  aloud.     "  Our  Empress  Elizabeth  is  fin  angel 


274        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

of  beauty  and  goodneae — mild  and  magnanimous  to  all — sacrificing 
herself  constantly  to  the  good  of  others.  Last  year  she  gave  a  ball 
to  her  body-guard.  She  danced  with  every  one  of  the  soldiers,  and 
sipped  from  every  glass ;  and  when  the  soldiers,  carried  away  by 
her  grace  and  favor,  dared  to  indulge  in  somewhat  free  jests,  the 
good  empress  laughed  merrily,  and  forgave  them.  On  that  auspi- 
cious day  she  first  turned  her  attention  to  the  happy  Bestuchef .  He 
was  then  a  ]X)or  subordinate  officer — now  he  is  a  prince  and  one  of 
the  richest  men  in  Russia. " 

"It  appears  that  your  Russia  has  some  resemblance  to  my  beauti- 
ful France, "  said  Belleville,  gayly.  "But  how  is  it  with  you.  Count 
Ranuzi  ?  Is  the  Austrian  court  like  the  court  of  France,  or  like  this 
wearisome  Prussia?" 

"  The  Austrian  court  stands  alone — resembles  no  other, "  said  the 
Italian,  proudly.  "At  the  Austrian  court  we  have  a  tribunal  of 
justice  to  decide  all  charges  against  modesty  and  virtue.  The 
Empress  Maria  Tlieresa  is  its  president." 

"Diable!"  cried  the  Frenchman,  "what  earthly  chance  would 
the  Russian  empress  and  my  lovely,  enchanting  marquise  have,  if 
summoned  before  this  tribunal  by  their  most  august  ally  the  Empress 
Maria  Theresa?  But  you  forget,  Giurgenow,  that  you  have  prom- 
ised to  read  us  something  from  the  journal  about  Prince  Henry. " 

"  It  is  nothing  of  importance, "  said  the  Russian,  apathetically  ; 
"the  prince  has  entirely  recovered  from  his  wounds,  and  has  been 
solacing  himself  in  his  winter  camp  at  Dresden  with  the  representa- 
tions upon  the  French  stage.  He  has  taken  part  as  actor,  and  has 
played  the  role  of  Voltaire's  Enfant  Prodigue.  It  is  further  written, 
that  he  has  now  left  the  comic  stage  and  commenced  the  graver 
game  of  arms. " 

"  He  might  accidentally  change  these  roles, "  said  BelleviUe,  gayly, 
"  and  play  the  Enfant  Prodigue  when  he  should  play  the  hero.  In 
which  would  he  be  the  greater,  do  you  know,  Ranuzi  ?" 

The  Italicin  shrugged  his  shoulders.     "  You  must  ask  his  wife. " 

"Or  Baron  Kalkreuth,  who  has  lingered  here  for  seven  months 
because  of  his  wounds,"  said  Giurgenow,  with  a  loud  laugh.  "Be- 
sides, Prince  Henry  is  averse  to  this  war  ;  all  his  sympathies  are  on 
our  side.  If  the  fate  of  war  should  cost  the  King  of  Prussia  his 
life,  we  would  soon  have  peace  and  leave  this  detestable  Berlin — 
this  dead,  sandy  desert,  where  we  are  now  languishing  as  prisoners. " 

"The  god  of  war  is  not  always  complaisant, "  said  the  French- 
man, grimly.  "  He  does  not  always  strike  those  whom  we  would 
gladly  see  fall ;  the  balls  often  go  wide  of  the  mark. " 

"Truly  a  dagger  is  more  reliable,"  said  Ranuzi,  coolly. 

The  I^ussjan  cast  9.  quick,  lowering  side  glaR99  upoij  Jijit}, 


THE  THREE  OFHCEllS.  STS 

"  Not  always  sure, "  said  he.  "  It  is  said  that  men  armed  with 
daggers  have  twice  found  their  way  into  the  Prussian  camp,  and 
been  caught  in  the  king's  tent.  Their  daggers  have  been  as  little 
fatal  to  the  king  as  the  cannon-balls. " 

"Those  who  bore  the  daggers  were  Dutchmen,"  said  Ranuzi, 
apathetically  ;  "  they  do  not  understand  this  sort  of  work.  One  must 
learn  to  handle  the  dagger  in  my  fatherland. " 

"  Have  you  learned?"  said  Giurgenow,  sharply. 

"I  have  learned  a  little  of  every  thing.  I  am  a  dilettanti  in 
aU." 

"  But  you  are  master  in  the  art  of  love, "  said  Belleville,  smiling. 
"  Much  is  said  of  your  love-affairs,  monsieur. " 

"Much  is  said  that  is  untinie, "  said  the  Italian,  quietly.  "I  love 
no  intrigues — least  of  all,  love  intrigues  ;  while  you,  sir,  are  known 
as  a  veritable  Don  Juan.  I  learn  that  you  are  fatally  in  love  with 
the  beautiful  maid  of  honor  of  the  Princess  Henry. " 

"  Ah,  you  mean  the  lovely  Fraulein  von  Marshal, "  said  Giurge- 
now ;  "  I  have  also  heard  this,  and  I  admire  the  taste  and  envy  the 
good  fortune  of  Belleville. " 

"It  is,  indeed,  true,"  said  Belleville;  "the  little  one  is  pretty, 
and  I  divert  myself  by  making  love  to  her.  It  is  our  duty  to  teach 
these  little  Dutch  girls,  once  for  all,  what  true  gallantry  is. " 

"And  is  that  your  only  reason  for  paying  court  to  this  beautiful 
girl?"  said  Giurgenow,  frowningly. 

"The  only  reason,  I  assure  you,"  cried  Belleville,  rising  up,  and 
drawing  near  the  window.  "  But,  look, "  cried  he,  hastily ;  "  what 
a  crowd  of  men  are  filling  the  streets,  and  how  the  people  are  ciying 
and  gesticulating,  as  if  some  great  misfortune  had  fallen  upon 
them  1" 

The  two  officers  hastened  to  his  side  and  threw  open  the  window. 
A  gi'eat  crowd  of  people  was  indeed  assembled  in  the  platz,  and 
they  were  still  rushing  from  the  neighboring  streets  into  the  wide, 
open  square,  in  the  middle  of  which,  upon  a  few  large  stones,  a 
curious  gi-oup  were  exhibiting  themselves. 

There  stood  a  tall,  thin  man,  enveloped  in  a  sort  of  black  robe  ; 
his  long  gray  hair  fell  in  wild  locks  around  his  pallid  and  fanatical 
countenance.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  bible,  which  he  waved 
aloft  to  the  people,  while  his  large,  deeply- set,  hollow  eyes  were 
raised  to  heaven,  and  his  pale  lips  murmured  light  and  unintelligi- 
ble words.  By  his  side  stood  a  woman,  also  in  black,  with  dis- 
hevelled hair  floating  down  her  back.  Her  face  was  colorless ;  she 
looked  like  a  corpse,  and  her  thin,  blue  lips  were  pressed  together  as 
if  in  death.  There  was  life  in  her  eyes — a  gloomy,  wild,  fanatical 
fire  flashed  from  them.     Her  glance  was  glaring  and  uncertain,  Uk9 


276       FRt^DERlCK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

a  will-o'-the-wisp,  and  filled  those  upon  whom  it  fell  with  a  shiver- 
ing, mysterious  feeling  of  dread. 

And  now,  as  if  by  accident,  she  looked  to  the  windows  where  the 
three  gentlemen  were  standing.  The  shadow  of  a  smile  passed  over 
her  face,  and  she  bowed  her  head  almost  imperceptibly.  No  one 
regarded  this  ;  no  one  saw  that  Giurgenow  answered  this  greeting, 
and  smiled  back  significantly  upon  this  enigmatical  woman. 

"  Do  you  know  what  tliis  means,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Belleville. 

"It  means,"  said  Giurgenow,  "that  the  people  will  learn  from 
their  great  prophet  something  of  the  continuance,  or  rather  of  the 
conclusion  of  this  war.  These  good,  simple  people,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  long  for  rest,  and  wish  to  know  when  they  may  hope  to  attain  it. 
That  man  knows,  for  he  is  a  great  prophet,  and  all  his  prophecies 
are  fulfilled." 

"But  you  forget  to  make  mention  of  the  woman?"  said  Ranuzi, 
with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"The  woman  is,  I  think,  a  fortune-teller  with  cards,  and  the 
Princess  Amelia  holds  her  in  great  respect ;  but  let  us  listen  to  what 
the  prophet  says. " 

They  were  silent,  and  listened  anxiously.  And  now  the  voice  of 
the  prophet  raised  itself  high  above  the  silent  crowd.  Pealing  and 
sounding  through  the  air,  it  fell  in  trumpet-tones  upon  the  ear,  and 
not  one  word  escaped  the  eager  and  attentive  people. 

"  Brothers, "  cried  the  prophet,  "  why  do  you  interrupt  me?  Why 
do  you  disturb  me,  in  my  quiet,  peaceful  path — me  and  this  inno- 
cent woman,  who  stood  by  my  side  last  night,  to  read  the  dark  stars, 
and  whose  soul  is  sad,  even  as  my  own,  at  what  we  have  seen. " 

"  What  did  you  see?"  cried  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 

"Pale,  ghostly  shadows,  who,  in  bloody  garments,  wandered 
here  and  there,  weeping  and  wailing,  seating  themselves  upon  a 
thousand  open  graves,  and  singing  out  their  plaintive  hymns  of 
lamentation.  'War!  war!'  they  cried,  'woe  to  war!  It  kills  our 
men,  devours  our  youths,  makes  widows  of  our  women,  and  nims  of 
our  maidens.  Woe,  woe  to  war !  Shriek  out  a  prayer  to  God  for 
peace — peace !  O  God,  send  us  jjeace  ;  close  these  open  graves,  heal 
our  wounds,  and  let  our  great  suffering  cease !'" 

The  prophet  folded  his  hands  and  looked  to  heaven,  and  now  the 
woman's  voice  was  heard. 

"But  the  heavens  were  dark  to  the  prayer  ff  the  spirits,  and  a 
blood -red  stream  gushed  from  them ;  colored  the  stars  crimson, 
turned  the  moon  to  a  lake  of  blood,  and  piteous  voices  cried  out 
from  the  clouds,  and  in  the  air — 'Fight  on  and  die,  for  your  king 
wills  it  so ;  your  life  belongs  to  him,  your  blcod  is  his. '  Then, 
from  two  rivulets  of  blood,    giant  like,    pale,    transparent   forms 


RANUZI.  377 

emerged  ;  upon  the  head  of  the  first,  I  read  the  number,  '  1759. '  Then 
the  pale  form  opened  its  lips,  and  cried  out :  'I  bring  war,  and  ever- 
new  bloodshed.  Your  king  demands  the  blood  of  your  sons ;  give 
it  to  him.  He  demands  your  gold  ;  give  it  to  him.  The  king  is 
lord  of  your  body,  yoiir  blood,  and  your  soul.  When  he  speaks,  you 
must  obey!'" 

"It  seems  to  me  all  this  is  a  little  too  Eussian  in  its  conception," 
said  Ranuzi,  half  aloud.  "I  shall  be  surprised  if  the  police  do  not 
interrupt  this  seance,  which  smells  a  little  of  insurrection. " 

"The  scene  is  so  very  piquant,"  said  Giurgenow,  "I  would  like 
to  draw  nearer.  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  I  must  leave  you,  and  go 
upon  the  square.  It  is  interesting  to  hear  what  the  people  say,  and 
how  they  receive  such  prophecies.  We  can,  perhaps,  judge  in  this 
way  of  the  probabilities  of  peace  and  liberty.  The  voice  of  the 
people  is,  in  politics,  ever  the  decisive  voice."  He  took  his  hat, 
and,  bowing  to  the  gentlemen,  left  the  room  hastily. 


CHAPTER    III. 

RANUZI. 

Count  Ranuzi  gazed  after  the  Russian  with  a  mocking  smile. 

"Do  you  know,  Belleville,  where  he  is  going?" 

"  He  has  not  told  us,  but  I  guess  it.  He  is  going  to  approach 
this  fortune-teller,  and  give  her  a  sign  that  her  zeal  has  carried  her 
too  far,  and  that,  if  not  more  prudent,  she  will  betray  herself. " 

"You  think,  then,  that  Giurgenow  knows  the  fortune-teller?" 
^  "  I  am  certain  of  it.  He  has  engaged  these  charlatans  to  rouse 
up  the  people,  and  excite  them  against  the  king.  This  is,  indeed, 
a  very  common  mode  of  proceeding,  and  often  successful ;  but  here, 
in  Prussia,  it  can  bear  no  fruit.  The  people  here  have  nothing  to 
do  with  politics ;  the  king  reigns  alone.  The  people  are  nothing 
but  a  mass  of  subjects,  who  obey  implicitly  his  commands,  even 
when  they  know,  that  in  so  doing,  they  rush  on  destruction." 

"Giurgenow  has  failed,  and  he  might  have  counted  upon  failure  1 
If  you,  Belleville,  had  resorted  to  these  means,  I  could  have  under- 
stood it.  In  France,  the  people  play  an  important  rdle  in  politics. 
In  order  to  put  down  the  government,  you  must  work  upon  the 
people.  You  might  have  been  forgiven  for  this  attempt,  but  Giur- 
genow never !" 

"You  believe,  then,  that  he  is  manoeuvring  hero,  in  Berlin,  in 
the  interest  of  his  government?"  6aid  Belleville,  amased. 

Ranuzi  laughed  heartily. 


278        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  That  is  a  fine  and  diplomatic  mode  of  expressing  the  thing !" 
Baid  he.  "Yes,  he  is  here  in  the  interest  of  his  government;  but 
when  the  Prussian  government  becomes  acquainted  with  this  fact, 
they  will  consider  him  a  spy.  If  discovered,  he  will  be  hung.  If 
successful,  when  once  more  at  liberty,  he  may  receive  thanks  and 
rewards  from  Russia.  See,  now,  how  rightly  I  have  prophesied  1 
There  is  Giurgenow,  standing  by  the  side  of  the  prophetess,  and  I 
imagine  I  almost  hear  the  words  he  is  whispering  to  her.  She  will 
commence  again  to  prophesy,  but  in  a  less  violent  and  fanatical 
manner. " 

"  No,  no  ;  she  will  prophesy  no  more !  The  police  are  breaking 
their  way  forcibly  through  the  crowd.  They  do  not  regard  the  cries 
of  fear  and  suffering  of  those  they  are  shoving  so  violently  aside. 
These  are  the  servants  of  the  police  ;  they  will  speedily  put  an  end 
to  this  prophesying.  Already  the  people  are  flying.  Look  how 
adroitly  Giurgenow  slips  away,  and  does  not  condescend  to  give  a 
glance  to  the  poor  prophetess  he  inspired.  Only  see  how  little 
respect  these  rough  policemen  have  for  these  heaven-inspired  proph- 
ets I  They  seize  them  rudely,  and  bear  them  oflf.  They  will  be 
punished  with,  at  least,  twenty-four  hours'  arrest.  In  Prussia,  this 
concourse  and  tumult  of  the  people  is  not  allowed.  Come,  monsieur, 
let  us  close  the  window  ;  the  comedy  is  over.  The  prophets  are  in 
the  watch-house.  Their  rdle  is  probably  forever  played  out !"  said 
Belleville,  smilingly. 

"  Not  80 ;  they  will  recommence  it  to-morrow.  These  same 
prophets  have  high  and  mighty  protectors  in  Berlin ;  the  police 
will  not  dare  to  keep  them  long  under  arrest.  The  Princess  Amelia 
will  demand  her  fortune-teller. " 

"  Vraiment,  monsieur  le  comte,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "you  seem 
extraordinarily  well  acquainted  with  all  these  intrigues?" 

"  I  observe  closely, "  said  Ranuzi,  with  a  meaning  smile.  "  I  am 
very  silent — therefore  hear  a  great  deal. " 

"  Well,  I  counsel  you  not  to  give  to  me  or  my  actions  the  honor 
of  your  observations, "  said  Belleville.  "  My  life  offers  few  opportu- 
nities for  discovery.  I  live,  I  eat,  I  sleep,  I  chat,  and  write  poetry, 
and  caress,  and  seek  to  amuse  myself  as  well  as  possible.  Some- 
times I  catch  myself  praying  to  God  tearfully  for  liberty,  and  truly, 
not  from  any  political  considerations — simply  from  the  selfish  wish 
to  get  away  from  here.  You  see,  therefore,  I  am  an  innocent  and 
harmless  hon  enfant,  not  in  the  least  troubled  about  public  affairs. " 

"No,"  said  Ranuzi,  "you  do  not  love  Fraulein  Marshal  at  all 
from  political  reasons,  but  solely  because  of  her  beauty,  her  grace, 
and  her  charms.     Behold,  this  is  the  result  of  my  observations. " 

"youh«i,ve,  then,  been  watching  me?"  said  Belleville,  blushing. 


RANUZl.  279 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  was  always  observant.  This  is  here  my 
only  distraction  and  recreation,  and  really  I  do  not  know  what  I 
should  do  with  my  time  if  I  did  not  kill  the  weary  hours  in  this 
way. " 

"You  do  employ  it  sometimes  to  a  better  purpose?"  said  the 
Frenchman,  in  low  tones.  "  Love  is  still  for  you  a  more  agreeable 
diversion,  and  you  understand  the  game  well." 

"  It  appears  you  are  also  an  observer, "  said  Ranuzi,  with  an  ironi- 
cal smile.  "Well,  then,  I  do  find  love  a  sweeter  diversion  ;  and  if  I 
should  yield  myself  up  entirely  to  my  love-dreams,  I  would  perhapa 
be  less  observant.  But,  Belleville,  why  do  you  take  your  hat?  Will 
you  also  leave  me  ?" 

"I  must,  perforce.  Through  our  agreeable  conversation  I  had 
entirely  forgotten  that  I  had  promised  Fraulein  Marshal  to  ride  with 
her.  A  cavalier  must  keep  his  promise  with  a  lady,  at  least  till  he 
knows  she  is  ardently  in  love  with  him."  He  gave  his  hand  to  the 
duke,  and  as  he  left  the  room  he  hummed  a  light  French  chanson. 

Ranuzi  looked  after  him  with  a  long,  frowning  glance.  "Poor 
fool, "  murmured  he,  "  he  believes  he  plays  his  part  so  well  that  he 
deceives  even  me.  This  mask  of  folly  and  levity  he  has  assumed  is 
thin  and  transparent  enough — I  see  his  true  face  behind  it.  It  is  the 
physiognomy  of  a  sly  intriguant.  Oh,  I  know  him  thoroughly  ;  I 
understand  every  emotion  of  his  heart,  and  I  know  well  what  his 
passion  for  the  beautiful  Marshal  signifies.  She  is  the  maid  of 
honor  of  the  Princess  Henry — this  is  the  secret  of  his  love.  She  is 
the  confidante  of  the  princess,  who  receives  every  week  long  and 
confidential  letters  from  the  tent  of  her  tender  husband.  Fraulein 
Marshal  is  naturally  acquainted  with  their  contents.  The  prince 
certainly  speaks  in  these  letters  of  his  love  and  devotion,  but  also  a 
little  of  the  king's  plans  of  battle.  Fraulein  von  Marslial  knows  all 
this.  If  Belleville  obtains  her  love  and  confidence,  he  will  receive 
pretty  coiTect  information  of  what  goes  on  in  the  tent  of  the  king 
and  in  the  camp  councils.  So  Belleville  will  have  most  important 
dispatches  to  forward  to  his  Marquise  de  Pompadour — dispatches  for 
which  he  will  be  one  day  rewarded  with  honor  and  fortune.  This 
is  the  Frenchman's  plan !  I  see  through  him  as  I  do  through  the 
Russian.  They  are  both  paid  spies — informers  of  their  governments 
— nothing  more.  They  will  be  paid,  or  they  will  be  hung,  accord- 
ing as  accident  is  favorable  or  unfavorable  to  them. "  Ranuzi  was 
silent,  and  walked  hastily  backward  and  forward  in  the  room. 
Upon  his  high,  pale  brow  dark  thoughts  were  written,  and  flashes 
of  anger  flamed  from  his  eyes. 

"  And  I, "  said  he,  after  a  long  pause,  "  am  I  in  any  respect  better 
than  they  ?    Will  not  the  day  come  when  I  also  will  be  considered 


j880       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

as  a  purchased  spy?  a  miserable  informer?  and  my  name  branded 
with  this  title?  No,  no ;  away  with  this  dark  spectre,  which  floats 
like  a  black  cloud  between  me  and  my  purpose  1  My  aim  is  heaven  ; 
and  what  I  do,  I  do  in  the  name  of  the  Church — in  the  service  of 
this  great,  exalted  Church,  whose  servant  and  priest  I  am.  No,  no  ; 
the  world  will  not  call  me  a  spy,  will  not  brand  my  name  with 
sliame.  God  will  bless  my  efforts  as  the  Holy  Father  in  Rome  has 
blessed  them,  and  I  shall  reach  the  goal. " 

Ranuzi  was  brilliantly  handsome  in  this  inspired  mood ;  his 
noble  and  characteristic  face  seemed  illuminated  and  as  beautiful  as 
the  angel  of  darkness,  when  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  heavenly  liglit. 

"  It  is  an  exalted  and  great  aim  which  I  have  set  before  me, "  said 
he,  after  another  pause;  "a  work  which  the  Holy  Father  himself 
confided  to  me.  I  must  and  I  will  accomplish  it  to  the  honor  of 
God  and  the  Holy  Madonna.  Tliis  blasphemous  war  must  end  ;  this 
atheistical  and  free-thinking  king  must  be  reduced,  humbled,  and 
cast  down  from  the  stage  he  has  mounted  with  such  ostentatious 
bravado.  Silesia  must  be  torn  from  the  hands  of  this  profligate 
robber  and  incorporated  in  the  crown  of  our  apostolic  majesty  of 
Austria.  The  holy  Church  dare  not  lose  any  of  her  provinces,  and 
Silesia  will  be  lost  if  it  remains  in  the  hands  of  this  heretical  king  ; 
he  must  be  punished  for  his  insolence  and  scoffing,  for  having  dared 
to  oppose  himself  to  the  Holy  Father  at  Rome.  The  injuries  which 
he  heaped  upon  the  Queen  of  Poland  must  be  avenged,  and  I  will 
not  rest  till  he  is  so  humbled,  so  crushed,  as  to  sue  for  a  shameful 
peace,  even  as  Henry  the  Fourth,  clad  like  a  peasant,  pleaded  to 
Canoza.     But  the  means,  the  means  to  attain  this  great  object. " 

Hastily  and  silently  he  paced  the  room,  his  head  proudly  thrown 
back,  and  a  cold,  defiant  glance  directed  upward. 

"To  kill  him!"  said  he  suddenly,  as  if  answering  the  voices 
which  whispered  in  his  soul ;  "  that  would  be  an  imbecile,  misera- 
ble resort,  and,  moreover,  we  would  not  obtain  our  object ;  he  would 
not  be  humiliated,  but  a  martyr's  crown  would  'he  added  to  his 
laurels.  When,  however,  he  is  completely  humbled,  when,  to  this 
great  victory  at  Hochkirch,  we  add  new  triumphs,  when  we  have 
taken  Silesia  and  revenged  Saxony,  then  he  might  die  ;  then  we  will 
seek  a  sure  hand  which  understands  the  dagger  and  its  uses.  Until 
then,  silence  and  caution  ;  until  then  this  contest  must  be  carried  on 
with  every  weapon  which  wisdom  and  craft  can  place  in  our  hands. 
I  think  my  weapons  are  good  and  sharp,  well  fitted  to  give  a  telling 
thrust;  and  yet  they  are  so  simple,  so  threadbare — a  cunning 
fortune-teller,  a  love-sick  fool,  a  noble  coquette,  and  a  poor  prisoner ! 
these  are  my  only  weapons,  and  with  these  I  will  defeat  the  man 
whom  his  flatterers  call  the  heroic  King  of  Prussia. " 


RANUZI.  281 

He  laughed  aloud,  but  it  was  a  ferocious,  threatening  laugh, 
which  shocked  himself. 

"  Down,  down,  ye  evil  spirits, "  said  he ;  "  do  not  press  foi-ward 
so  boldly  to  my  lips ;  they  are  consecrated  now  to  soft  words  and 
tender  sighs  alone.  Silence,  ye  demons  !  creep  back  into  my  heart, 
and  there,  from  some  dark  corner,  you  can  hear  and  see  if  my  great 
role  is  well  played.  It  is  time !  it  is  time  !  I  must  once  more  prove 
my  weapons. " 

He  stepped  to  the  glass  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  face,  ex- 
amined his  eyes,  his  lips,  to  see  if  they  betrayed  the  dark  passions 
of  his  soul ;  then  arranged  his  dark  hair  in  soft,  wavy  lines  over  his 
brow ;  he  rang  for  his  servant,  put  on  his  Austrian  uniform,  and 
buckled  on  the  sword.  The  king  had  been  gracious  enough  to  allow 
the  captive  oflB^cers  in  Berlin  to  wear  their  swords,  only  requiring 
their  word  of  honor  that  they  would  never  use  them  again  in  this 
war.  When  Count  Ranuzi,  the  captive  Austi'ian  captain,  had  com- 
pleted his  toilet,  he  took  his  hat  and  entered  the  street.  Ranuzi  had 
now  assumed  a  careless,  indifferent  expression ;  he  greeted  the 
acquaintances  who  met  him  with  a  friendly  smile,  uttering  to  each 
a  few  kindly  words  or  gay  jests.  He  reached,  at  last,  a  small  and 
insignificant  house  in  the  Frederick  Street,  opened  the  door  which 
was  only  slightly  closed,  and  entered  the  hall ;  at  the  same  moment 
a  side  door  opened,  and  a  lady  sprang  forward,  with  extended  arms, 
to  meet  the  count. 

"  Oh,  my  angel, "  said  she,  in  that  soft  Italian  tongue,  so  well 
suited  to  clothe  love's  trembling  sighs  in  words — "oh,  my  angel,  are 
you  here  at  last?  I  saw  your  noble,  handsome  face,  from  my  win- 
dow ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  room  was  illuminated  with  glorious 
sunshine,  and  my  heart  and  soul  were  warmed. " 

Ranuzi  made  no  answer  to  these  glowing  words,  silently  he 
suffered  himself  to  be  led  forward  by  the  lady,  then  replied  to  her 
ardent  assurances  by  a  few  cool,  friendly  words. 

"You  are  alone  to-day,  Marietta,"  said  he,  "and  your  husband 
will  not  interrupt  our  conversation. " 

"My  husband!"  said  she,  reproachfully,  "Taliazuchi  is  not  my 
husband.  I  despise  him  ;  I  know  nothing  of  him  ;  I  am  even  willing 
that  he  should  know  I  adore  you. " 

"Oh  woman,  woman!"  said  Ranuzi,  laughing;  "how  treacher- 
ous, how  dangerous  you  are  I  When  you  love  happily,  you  are  like 
the  anaconda,  whose  poisonous  bite  one  need  not  fear,  when  it  is 
well  fed  and  tended  ;  but  when  you  have  ceased  to  love,  you  are  like 
the  tigress  who,  rashly  awaked  from  sleep,  would  strangle  the  un- 
fortunate who  disturbed  her  repose.  Come,  my  anaconda,  come ; 
if  you  are  satisfied  with  my  love,  let  us  talk  and  dream. "  He  drew 
19 


282       ITIEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

her  tenderly  toward  him,  and,  kissing  her  fondly,  seated  her  by  his 
side  ;  but  Marietta  glided  softly  to  his  feet. 

"Let  it  be  so,"  she  said ;  "let  me  lie  at  your  feet;  let  me  adore 
you,  and  read  in  your  face  the  history  of  these  last  three  terrible 
days,  in  which  I  have  not  seen  you.  Where  were  you,  Carlo?  whj' 
have  you  forgotten  me  ?" 

"  Ah, "  said  he,  laughing,  "  my  anaconda  begins  to  hunger  for  my 
heart's  blood !  how  long  before  she  will  be  ready  to  devour  or  to 
murder  me?" 

"  Do  not  call  me  your  anaconda, "  she  said,  shaking  her  head  ; 
"  you  say  that,  when  we  are  satisfied  with  your  love,  we  are  like  the 
sleeping  anaconda.  But,  Carlo,  when  I  look  upon  you,  I  thirst  for 
your  glances,  your  sweet  words,  your  assurances  of  love.  And  has 
it  not  been  thus  all  my  life  long?  Have  I  not  loved  you  since  I  was 
capable  of  thought  and  feeling?  Oh,  do  you  remember  our  happy, 
glorious  childhood.  Carlo?  those  days  of  sunshine,  of  fragrance,  of 
flowers,  of  childish  innocence?  Do  you  remember  how  often  we 
have  wandered  hand  in  hand  through  the  Campagna,  talking  of 
God,  of  the  stars,  and  of  the  flowers? — dreaming  of  the  time  in 
which  the  angels  and  the  stai's  would  float  down  into  our  hearts,  and 
change  the  world  into  a  paradise  for  us?" 

"Ah!  we  had  a  bitter  awaking  from  these  fair  dreams, "  said 
Ranuzi,  thoughtfully.  "  My  father  placed  me  in  a  Jesuit  college  ; 
your  mother  sent  you  to  a  cloister,  that  the  nuns  might  make  of  you 
a  public  singer.  We  had  both  our  own  career  to  make,  Marietta ; 
you  upon  the  stage,  I  on  the  confessor's  stool.  We  were  the  poor 
children  of  poor  parents,  and  every  path  was  closed  to  us  but  one, 
the  church  and  the  stage  ;  our  wise  parents  knew  this." 

"  And  they  separated  us, "  sighed  Marietta ;  "  they  crushed  out  the 
first  modest  flame  of  our  young,  pure  hearts,  and  made  us  an  exam- 
ple of  their  greed  !  Ah,  Carlo ;  you  can  never  know  how  much  I 
suffered,  how  bitterly  I  wept  on  your  account.  I  was  only  twelve 
years  old,  but  I  loved  you  with  all  the  strength  and  ardor  of  a 
woman,  and  longed  after  you  as  after  a  lost  paradise.  Tlie  nuns 
taught  me  to  sing ;  and  when  my  clear,  rich  voice  pealed  through 
the  church  halls,  no  one  knew  that  not  God's  image,  but  yours,  was 
in  my  heart ;  that  I  was  worshipping  you  with  my  hjTnns  of  praise 
and  pious  fervor.  I  knew  that  we  were  forever  separated,  could 
never  belong  to  each  other,  so  I  prayed  to  God  to  lend  swift  wings 
to  time,  that  we  might  become  independent  and  free,  I  as  a  singer 
and  you  as  my  honored  confessor. " 

Ranuzi  laughed  men-ily.  "  But  fate  was  unpropitious, "  said  he. 
"The  pious  fathers  discovered  that  I  had  too  little  eloquence  to  make 
a  good  priest ;  in  short,  that  I  was  better  fitted  to  serve  holy  mother 


RANUZI.  383 

Church  upon  the  battle-field.  When  I  was  a  man  and  sufficiently 
learned,  they  obtained  a  commission  for  me  as  officer  in  the  Pope's 
body-guard,  and  I  exchanged  the  black  robe  of  my  order  for  the 
gold-embroidered  uniform. " 

"And  you  forgot  me,  Carlo?  you  did  not  let  me  know  where  you 
were  ?  Five  years  after,  when  I  was  engaged  in  Florence  as  a  singer, 
I  learned  what  had  become  of  you.  I  loved  you  always.  Carlo  ;  but 
what  hope  had  I  ever  to  tell  you  so?  we  were  so  far  away  from  each 
other,  and  poverty  separated  us  so  widely.  I  must  first  become  rich, 
you  must  make  your  career.  Only  then  might  we  hope  to  belong  to 
each  other.     I  waited  and  was  silent. " 

"  You  waited  and  were  silent  till  you  forgot  me, "  said  Eanuzi, 
playing  carelessly  with  her  long,  soft  curls  ;  "  and,  having  forgotten 
me,  you  discovered  that  Signor  Taliazuchi  was  a  tolerably  pretty 
fellow,  whom  it  was  quite  possible  to  love. " 

"Taliazuchi  understood  how  to  flatter  my  vanity,"  said  she, 
gloomily ;  "  he  wrote  beautiful  and  glowing  poems  in  my  praise, 
which  were  printed  and  read  not  only  in  Florence,  but  throughout 
all  Italy.  When  he  declared  his  love  and  pleaded  for  my  hand,  I 
thought,  if  I  refused  him,  he  would  persecute  me  and  hate  me  ;  that 
mockery  and  ridicule  would  take  the  place  of  the  enthusiastic  hymns 
in  my  praise,  with  which  Italy  then  resounded.  I  was  too  ambi- 
tious to  submit  to  this,  and  had  not  the  courage  to  refuse  him,  so  I 
became  his  wife,  and  in  becoming  so,  I  abhorred  him,  and  I  swore 
to  make  him  atone  for  having  forced  me  to  become  so. " 

"  But  this  force  consisted  only  in  hymns  of  praise  and  favorable 
criticisms, "  said  Ranuzi,  quietly. 

"  I  have  kept  my  oath, "  said  Marietta  ;  "  I  have  made  him  atone 
for  what  he  has  done,  and  I  have  often  thought  that,  when  afterward 
compelled  to  write  poems  in  my  favor,  he  cursed  me  in  his  heart ; 
he  would  gladly  have  crushed  me  by  his  criticisms,  but  that  my 
fame  was  a  fountain  of  gold  for  him,  which  he  dared  not  exhaust  or 
dry  up.  But  my  voice  had  been  injured  by  too  much  straining,  and 
a  veil  soon  fell  upon  it.  I  could  but  regard  it  as  great  good  fortune 
when  Count  Algarotti  proposed  to  me  to  take  the  second  place  as 
singer  in  Berlin ;  this  promised  to  be  more  profitable,  as  the  count 
carelessly  offered  Taliazuchi  a  place  in  the  opera  troupe  as  writer. 
So  I  left  my  beautiful  Italy ;  I  left  you  to  amass  gold  in  this  cold 
north.  And  now,  I  no  longer  repent ;  I  rejoice !  I  have  found  you 
again — you,  the  beloved  of  my  youth — you,  my  youth  itself.  Oh, 
Heaven !  never  will  I  forget  the  day  when  I  saw  you  passing.  I 
knew  you  in  spite  of  the  uniform,  in  spite  of  the  many  years  which 
had  passed  since  we  met.  I  knew  you  ;  and  not  my  lips  only,  but 
my  heart,  uttered  that  loud  cry  which  caused  you  to  look  up,  my 


284       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Carlo.  And  now  you  recognized  me  and  stretched  your  hands  out 
to  me,  and  I  would  have  sprung  to  you  from  the  window,  had  not 
Taliazuchi  held  me  back.  I  cried  out,  'It  is  Ranuzi !  it  is  Carlo !  I 
must,  I  will  fly  to  him, '  when  the  door  opened  and  you  entered  and 
I  saw  you,  my  own  beloved  ;  I  heard  your  dear  voice,  and  nevfer  did 
one  of  God's  poor  creatures  fall  into  a  happier  insensibility  than  I 
in  that  rapturous  moment. " 

"And  Taliazuchi  stood  by  and  smiled  !"  said  Ranuzi,  laughing; 
"  it  was  truly  a  pretty  scene  for  an  opera  wTiter.  He,  no  doubt, 
thought  so,  and  wished  to  take  note  of  it,  as  he  left  the  room  when 
you  awaked  to  consciousness. " 

"  Since  that  time,  I  am  only  awake  when  in  your  presence, "  said 
Marietta,  passionately.  "  When  you  are  not  near  me,  I  sleep.  You 
are  the  sun  which  rouses  me  to  life.  When  you  leave  me,  it  is  night 
— dark  night,  and  dark,  gloomy  thoughts  steal  over  me. " 

"What  thoughts.  Marietta?"  said  he,  placing  his  hand  imder  her 
chin,  and  raising  her  head  gently. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  curious,  dreamy  smile,  but  was  silent. 

"Well,  what  thoughts  have  you  when  I  am  not  with  you?"  he 
repeated. 

"  I  think  it  possible  a  day  may  come  in  which  you  will  cease  to 
love  me. " 

"And  you  think  you  will  then  fly  to  Taliazuchi  for  consolation?" 
said  Ranuzi,  laughing. 

"  No  ;  I  think,  or  rather  I  fear  that  I  will  revenge  myself ;  that  I 
will  take  vengeance  on  you  for  your  unfaithfulness. " 

"Ah!  my  tigress  threatens!"  cried  Ranuzi.  "Now,  Mariefta, 
you  know  well  that  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  you,  but  a  day  will 
come  when  we  will  be  forced  to  separate. " 

She  sprang  up  with  a  wild  cry,  and  clasped  him  stormily  in  her 
arms.  < 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  trembling  and  weeping;  "no  man  shall 
dare  to  tear  you  from  me  I    We  will  never  be  separated  !" 

"You  think,  then,  that  I  am  not  only  your  prisoner  for  life,  but 
also  the  eternal  prisoner  of  the  King  of  Prussia?" 

"  No,  no !  you  shall  be  free — free  !  but  Marietta  will  also  be  free, 
and  by  your  side.  When  you  leave  Berlin,  I  go  with  you  ;  no  power 
can  bind  me  here.  Taliazuchi  will  not  seek  me,  if  I  leave  him  my 
little  fortune.  I  will  do  that ;  I  will  take  nothing  with  me.  Poor, 
without  fortune  or  possessions,  I  will  follow  you,  Ranuzi.  I  desire 
nothing,  I  hope  for  nothing,  but  to  be  by  your  side. " 

She  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  and  did  not  remark  the  dark  cloud 
which  shadowed  his  brow,  but  this  vanished  quickly,  and  his 
countenance  assumed  a  kind  and  clear  c:cpreesion. 


RANU2I.  285 

"It  shall  be  so,  Marietta  !  Freedom  shall  unite  us  both  eternaliy, 
death  only  shall  separate  us  !  But  when  may  we  hope  for  this  greai , 
this  glorious,  this  beautiful  hour?  When  will  the  blessed  day  dawu 
in  which  I  can  take  your  hand  and  say  to  you,  '  Come,  Marietta, 
come  ;  the  world  belongs  to  us  and  our  love.  Let  us  fly  and  enjoy 
our  happiness. '  Oh,  beloved,  if  you  truly  love  me,  help  me  to 
snatch  this  happy  day  from  fate  !  Stand  by  me  with  your  love,  that 
I  may  attain  my  freedom. " 

"  Tell  me  what  I  can  do,  and  it  is  done, "  said  she  resolutely ; 
"there  is  nothing  I  will  not  undertake  and  dare  for  you. " 

Ranuzi  took  her  small  head  in  his  hands  and  gazed  long  and 
smilingly  into  her  glowing  face. 

"Are  you  sure  of  yourself?"  said  he. 

"  I  am  sure.     Tell  me.  Carlo,  what  I  must  do,  and  it  is  done. " 

"And  if  it  is  dangerous.  Marietta?" 

"  I  know  but  one  danger. " 

"Whatistliat?" 

"  To  lose  your  love.  Carlo !" 

"  Then  this  world  has  no  danger  for  you,  Marietta !" 

"  Speak,  Carlo,  speak  !  How  can  I  aid  you  ?  What  can  I  do  to 
obtain  your  liberty  ?" 

Ranuzi  threw  a  quick  and  searching  glance  around  the  room,  as 
if  to  convince  liiinself  that  they  were  alone,  then  bowed  down  close 
to  her  ear  and  whispered  : 

"  I  can  never  be  free  till  the  King  of  Prussia  is  completely  con- 
quered and  subjected,  and  only  if  1  bring  all  my  strength  and  capa- 
bilities to  this  object,  may  I  liope  to  be  free,  and  rich,  and  honored. 
The  King  of  Prussia  is  my  enemy,  he  is  the  enemy  of  the  Church, 
the  enemy  of  my  gracious  sovereign  of  Austria,  to  whom  1  have 
sworn  fealty.  A  man  may  striA'e  to  conquer  his  enemies  with  every 
weapon,  even  with  craft.     Will  you  stand  by  me  in  this?" 

"I  will." 

"Then  observe  and  listen,  and  searcli  all  aroimd  you.  Repeal  lo 
me  all  that  you  hear  and  see — seem  to  be  an  enthusiastic  adhereni 
of  the  King  of  Prussia  ;  you  will  then  be  confided  in  and  know  ail 
tliat  is  taking  place.  Be  kind  and  sympathetic  to  your  husband  , 
he  is  a  sincere  follower  of  the  king,  and  has  free  intercourse  witli 
many  distinguished  persons ;  he  is  also  well  received  at  court. 
Give  yourself  the  appearance  of  sympathizing  in  all  his  sentiments. 
When  you  attend  the  concerts  at  the  castle,  observe  all  that  passes 
— every  laugh,  every  glance,  every  indistinct  word,  and  inform  me 
of  all.     Do  you  understand,  Marietta? — will  you  do  this?" 

"I  understand,  Carlo,  and  I  will  do  this.  Is  this  all?  Can  I  do 
nothing  more  to  help  you?" 


286       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Yes,  there  are  other  things,  but  they  are  more  difficult,  more 
dangerotis. " 

"  So  much  the  better ;  the  more  dangerous  the  stronger  the  proof 
of  my  love.     Speak,  dear  Carlo !" 

"  It  is  forbidden  for  the  captive  officers  to  send  sealed  letters  to 
their  friends  or  relatives.  All  our  letters  must  be  read,  and  if  a 
word  of  politics  is  found  in  them,  they  are  condemned.  All  other 
persons  have  the  right  to  send  sealed  letters  in  every  direction. 
Have  you  not  friends  to  whom  you  write.  Marietta?" 

*'  I  have,  and  from  this  time  onward  your  friends  will  be  mine, 
and  I  will  con'espond  with  them." 

As  she  said  this,  with  a  roguish  smile,  a  ray  of  joy  lightod  up 
Ranuzi's  eyes. 

"You  understand  me,  my  beloved ;  your  intellect  is  as  clear  and 
sharp  as  your  heart  is  warm  and  noble.  Think  well  what  you  do — 
what  danger  threatens  you.  I  tell  you  plainly.  Marietta,  this  is  no 
question  of  common  friendly  letters,  but  of  the  most  earnest,  grave, 
important  interests !" 

She  bowed  to  his  ear  and  whispered :  "  All  that  you  espy  in  Ber- 
lin you  will  confide  to  these  letters;  you  will  concert  with  your 
friends,  you  will  design  plans,  perhaps  make  conspiracies.  I  will 
address  these  letters  and  take  them  to  tlie  post,  and  no  one  will  mis- 
trust me,  for  my  letters  will  be  addressed  to  some  friends  in  Vienna, 
or  to  whom  you  will.  Have  I  understood  you,  Carlo'?  Is  this  all 
right?" 

He  clasped  her  rapturously  in  his  arms,  and  the  woi-ds  of  tender 
gratitude  which  he  expressed  were  not  entirely  wanting  in  sincerity 
and  truth. 

Marietta  was  proudly  happy,  and  listened  with  sparkling  eyes  to 
his  honeyed  words. 

As  Ranuzi,  however,  after  this  long  interview,  arose  to  say  fare- 
well, she  held  him  back.  Laying  her  hands  upon  his  shoulder,  she 
looked  at  him  with  a  curious  expression,  half  laughing,  half  threat- 
ening. 

"  One  last  word.  Carlo, "  she  said  ;  "  I  love  you  boundlessly.  To 
prove  my  love  to  you,  I  become  a  traitress  to  this  king,  who  has 
been  a  gracious  master  to  me,  whose  bread  I  eat — who  received  and 
protects  me.  To  prove  my  love,  I  become  a  spy,  an  informer.  IMen 
say  this  is  dishonorable  work,  but  for  myself  I  feel  proud  and  happy 
to  undertake  it  for  you,  and  not  for  all  the  riches  and  treasures  of 
this  world  would  I  betray  you.  But,  Carlo,  if  you  ever  cease  to 
love  me,  if  you  deceive  me  and  become  unfaithful,  as  true  as  God 
hf^lps  me,  I  will  betray  both  myself  and  you  !" 

•*  I  believe  truly  she  is  capable  of  it, "  said  Ranuzi,  as  he  reached 


LOUISE  DU  TROUFFLE.  287 

the  street;  "she  is  a  dangerous  woman,  and  with  her  love  and  hate 
she  is  truly  like  a  tigress.  Well,  I  must  be  on  my  guard.  If  she 
rages  I  must  draw  her  teeth,  so  that  she  cannot  bite,  or  flee  from 
her  furious  leaps.  But  this  danger  is  in  the  distance,  the  principal 
thing  is  that  I  have  opened  a  way  to  my  coiTespondence,  and  that 
is  immense  progress  in  my  plans,  for  which  I  might  well  show  my 
gratitude  to  my  tender  Marietta  by  a  few  caresses. " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

LOUISE    DU    TROUFFLE. 

Madame  du  Trouffle  paced  her  room  restlessly ;  she  listened  to 
every  stroke  of  the  clock,  every  sound  made  her  tremble. 

"He  comes  not!  he  comes  not!"  murmured  she;  "he  received 
my  irony  of  yesterday  in  earnest  and  is  exasperated  Alas !  am  I 
really  an  old  woman?  Have  I  no  longer  the  power  to  enchain,  to 
attract?  Can  it  be  that  I  am  old  and  ugly?  No,  no!  I  am  but 
thirty-four  years  of  age — that  is  not  old  for  a  married  woman,  and 
as  to  being  ugly—" 

She  interrupted  herself,  stepped  hastily  to  the  glass,  and  looked 
long  and  curiously  at  her  face. 

Yes,  yes  I  she  must  confess  her  beauty  was  on  the  wane.  She 
was  more  faded  than  her  age  would  justify.  Already  was  seen 
around  her  mouth  those  yellow,  treacherous  lines  which  vanished 
years  imprint  upon  the  face ;  already  her  brow  was  marked  with 
light  lines,  and  silver  threads  glimmered  in  her  hair. 

Louise  du  Trouffle  sighed  heavily. 

"I  was  too  early  married,  and  then  unhappily  married;  at 
eighteen  I  was  a  mother.  All  this  ages  a  woman — not  the  years  but 
the  storms  of  life  have  marked  these  fearful  lines  in  my  face.  Then 
it  is  not  possible  for  a  man  to  feel  any  warm  interest  in  me  when 
he  sees  a  grown-up  daughter  by  my  side,  who  will  soon  be  my  rival, 
and  strive  with  me  for  the  homage  of  men.  This  is  indeed  exasper- 
ating. Oh,  my  God  !  my  God  !  a  day  may  come  in  which  I  may  be 
jealous  of  my  own  daughter !  May  Heaven  guard  me  from  that ! 
Grant  that  I  may  see  her  fresh  and  blooming  beauty  without  rancor ; 
that  I  may  think  more  of  her  happiness  than  my  vanity." 

Then,  as  if  she  would  strengthen  her  good  resolutions,  Louise 
left  her  room  and  hastened  to  the  chamber  of  her  daughter. 

Camilla  lay  upon  the  divan — her  slender  and  beauteous  form  was 
wrapped  in  soft  white  drapery ;  her  shining,  soft  dark  hair  fell 
^rougd  her  rosjr  jf^ce  ^nd  over  her  nalJied  ehpulderSj  with  whose  ^]^' 


288        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

baster  whiteness  it  contrasted  strongly.  Camilla  was  reading,  and 
so  entirely  was  she  occupied  with  her  book  that  she  did  not  hear  her 
mother  enter. 

Louise  drew  softly  near  the  divan,  and  stood  still,  lost  in  admira- 
tion at  this  lovely,  enchanting  picture,  this  reposing  Hebe. 

"Camilla,"  said  she,  fondly,  "what  are  you  reading  so  eagerly?" 

Camilla  started  and  looked  up  suddenly,  then  laughed  aloud. 

"Ah,  mamma, "  said  she,  in  a  silver,  clear,  and  soft  voice,  "how 
you  frightened  me !  I  thought  it  was  my  tyrannical  governess 
already  returned  from  her  walk,  and  that  she  had  surprised  me  with 
this  book. " 

"  Without  doubt  she  forbade  you  to  read  it, "  said  her  mother, 
gravely,  strett^hing  out  her  hand  for  the  book,  but  Camilla  drew  it 
back  suddenly. 

"  Yes,  certainly,  Madame  Brunnen  forbade  me  to  read  this  book  ; 
but  that  is  no  reason,  mamma,  why  you  should  take  it  away  from 
me.  It  is  to  be  hoped  you  will  not  play  the  stem  tyrant  against 
your  poor  Camilla. " 

"  I  wish  to  know  what  you  are  reading,  Camilla. " 

"Well,  then,  Voltaire's  'Pucelle  d'Orleans, '  and  I  assure  you, 
mamma,  I  am  extremely  pleased  with  it. " 

"  Madame  Brunnen  was  right  to  forbid  you  to  read  this  book, 
and  I  also  forbid  it. " 

"And  if  I  refuse  to  obey,  mamma?" 

"I  will  force  you  to  obedience,"  cried  her  mother,  sternly. 

"Did  any  one  succeed  in  forcing  you  to  obey  your  mother?"  said 
Camilla,  in  a  transport  of  rage.  "  Did  your  mother  give  her  consent 
to  your  elopement  with  the  garden-boy?  You  chose  your  own  path 
in  life,  and  I  will  choose  mine.  I  will  no  longer  bear  to  be  treated 
as  a  child — I  am  thirteen  years  old  ;  you  were  not  older  when  yoTi 
had  the  affair  with  the  garden -boy,  and  were  forced  to  confide  your- 
self to  my  father.  Why  do  you  wish  to  treat  me  as  a  little  child, 
and  keep  me  in  leading-strings,  when  I  am  a  grown-up  girl?" 

"  You  are  no  grown-up  girl,  Camilla, "  cried  her  mother  ;  "  if  you 
were,  you  would  not  dare  to  speak  to  j-our  mother  as  you  have  done  : 
you  would  know  that  it  was  unseemly,  and  that,  above  all  other 
things,  you  should  show  reverence  and  obedience  to  your  mother. 
No,  Camilla,  God  be  thanked !  you  are  but  a  foolish  child,  ar.d 
therefore  I  forgive  you. " 

Louise  drew  near  her  daughter  and  tried  to  clasp  her  tenderly  in 
her  arms,  but  Camilla  struggled  roughly  against  it. 

"You  shall  not  call  me  a  child,"  said  she,  rudely.  "I  will  no 
longer  bear  it !  it  angers  me !  and  if  you  repeat  it,  mamma,  I  will 
d^l£|,re  to  every  oije  tJiat  I  am  sixteen  ye^rs  ol4 !" 


LOUISE  DU  TEOUFFLE.  289 

"And  why  will  you  say  that,  Camilla?" 

Camilla  looked  up  with  a  cunning  smile. 

"Why?"  she  repeated,  "ah  !  you  think  I  do  not  know  why  I  must 
always  remain  a  child?  It  is  because  you  wish  to  remain  a  young 
woman — therefore  you  declare  to  all  the  world  that  I  am  but  twelve 
years  old  !  But  no  one  believes  you,  mamma,  not  one  believes  you. 
The  world  laughs  at  you,  but  you  do  not  see  it — you  think  you  are 
younger  when  you  call  me  a  child.  I  say  to  you  I  will  not  endure 
it !  I  will  be  a  lady — I  will  adorn  myself  and  go  into  society.  I 
will  not  remain  in  the  school-room  with  a  governess  while  you  are 
sparkling  in  the  saloon  and  enchanting  your  followers  by  your 
beauty.  I  will  also  have  my  worshippers,  who  pay  court  to  me  ;  I 
will  write  and  receive  love-letters  as  other  maidens  do  ;  I  will  carry 
on  my  own  little  love-affairs  as  all  other  girls  do  ;  as  you  did,  from 
the  time  you  were  twelve  years  old,  and  still  do  !" 

"  Silence,  Camilla !  or  I  will  make  you  feel  that  you  are  still  a 
child !"  cried  Louise,  raising  her  arm  threateningly  and  approach- 
ing the  divan. 

"Would  you  strike  me,  mother?"  said  she,  with  trembling  lips. 
"  I  counsel  you  not  to  do  it.  Raise  your  hand  once  more  against 
me,  but  think  of  the  consequences.  I  will  run  away  !  I  will  fly  to 
my  poor,  dear  father,  whom  you,  unhappy  one,  have  made  a  drunk- 
ard !  I  will  remain  with  him — he  loves  me  tenderly.  If  I  were 
with  him,  he  would  no  longer  drink. " 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God  !"  cried  Louise,  with  tears  gushing  from 
her  eyes  ;  "  it  is  he  who  has  planted  this  hate  in  her  heart — he  has 
been  the  cause  of  all  my  wretchedness !  She  loves  her  father  who 
has  done  nothing  for  her,  and  she  hates  her  mother  who  has  shown 
her  nothing  but  love. "  With  a  loud  cry  of  agony,  she  clasped  her 
hands  over  her  face  and  wept  bitterly. 

Camilla  drew  close  to  her,  grasped  her  hands  and  pulled  them 
forcibly  from  her  face,  then  looked  in  her  eyes  passionately  and 
scornfully.  Camilla  was  indeed  no  longer  a  child.  She  stood  erect, 
pale,  and  fiercely  excited,  opposite  to  her  mother.  Understanding 
and  intellect  flashed  from  her  dark  eyes.  Tliere  were  lines  around 
her  mouth  which  betrayed  a  passion  and  a  power  with  which  child- 
hood has  nothing  to  do. 

"You  say  you  have  shown  me  nothing  but  love,"  said  Camilla, 
in  a  cold  and  cutting  tone.  "  Mother,  what  love  have  you  shown 
me  ?  You  made  my  father  wretched,  and  my  childish  years  were 
spent  under  the  curse  of  a  most  unhappy  marriage.  I  have  seen  my 
father  weep  while  you  were  laughing  merrily — I  have  seen  him 
drunk  and  lying  like  a  beast  at  my  feet,  while  you  were  in  our  gay 
i^QQn  receiving  ?wd  entert(iining  guests  with  cool  uncoQceni,    YqU 


290        rnEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

say  you  hare  shown  me  nothing  but  love.  You  never  loved  me, 
mother,  never  !  Had  you  loved  me,  you  would  have  taken  pitj-  with 
my  future — you  would  not  have  given  me  a  step-father  while  I  had 
a  poor,  dear  father,  who  had  nothing  inthe  wide  world  but  me,  me 
alone !  You  think  perhaps,  mother,  that  I  am  not  unhappy  ;  \>hile 
I  am  giddy  and  play  foolish  pranks,  you  believe  me  to  be  happ}-  and 
contented.  Ah,  mother,  I  have  an  inward  horror  and  prophetic 
fear  of  the  future  which  never  leaves  me  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  evil 
spirits  surround  me — as  if  they  enchanted  me  with  strange,  alluring 
songs.  I  know  they  will  work  my  destruction,  but  I  cannot  with- 
stand them — I  must  listen,  I  must  succumb  to  them.  I  would  gladly 
be  diflferent— be  better.  I  desire  to  be  a  virtuous  and  modest  girl, 
but  alas,  alas,  I  cannot  escape  from  this  magic  circle  to  which  my 
mother  has  condemned  me  !  I  have  lived  too  fast,  experienced  too 
much — I  am  no  longer  a  child — I  am  an  experienced  woman.  The 
world  and  the  things  of  the  world  call  me  with  a  thousand  alluring 
voices,  and  I  shall  be  lost  as  my  mother  was  lost !  I  am  her  most 
unhappy  daughter,  and  her  blood  is  in  my  heart !"  Almost  insen.<?i- 
ble,  crushed  by  excitement  and  passion,  Camilla  sank  to  the  earth. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  with  cold  and  tearless  eyes ;  her  hair 
seemed  to  stand  erect,  and  a  cold,  dead  hand  seemed  placed  upon 
her  heart  and  almost  stilled  its  beatings.  "I  have  deserved  this," 
murmured  she  ;  "God  punishes  the  levity  of  my  youth  through  my 
own  child. "  She  bowed  down  to  her  daughter  and  raised  her  softly 
in  her  arms. 

"Come,  my  child,"  she  said,  tenderly,  "we  will  forget  this  hour 
— we  will  strive  to  live  in  love  and  harmony  with  each  other.  You 
are  right !  You  are  no  longer  a  child,  amd  I  will  think  of  introduc- 
ing you  to  the  world. " 

"And  you  will  dismiss  Madame  Brunnen,"  said  Camilla,  gayly. 
"  Oh,  mamma,  you  have  no  idea  how  she  tortures  and  martyrs  me 
with  her  Argus-eyes,  and  watches  me  day  and  night.  Will  you  not 
dismiss  her,  mamma,  and  take  no  other  governess?" 

"  I  will  think  of  it, "  said  her  mother,  sadlj'.  But  now  a  servant 
entered  and  announced  Coimt  Ranuzi.  Madame  du  Trouflfle  blushed, 
and  directed  the  servant  to  conduct  him  to  the  parlor. 

Camilla  looked  at  her  roguishly,  and  said  :  "If  you  really  think 
me  a  grown-up  girl,  take  me  with  you  to  the  parlor. " 

Madame  du  Trouffle  refused.  "You  are  not  properly  dressed, 
and  besides,  I  have  important  business  with  the  count. " 

Camilla  turned  her  back  scornfully,  and  her  mother  left  the 
room  ;  Camilla  returned  to  the  sofa  and  Madame  du  Trouflfle  entered 
the  saloon.  In  the  levity  and  frivolity  of  their  hearts  they  had  both 
forgotten  this  sad  sceiie  iij  i/lie  drama  of  a  dejpoiraljzed  f^miljr  life  j 


LOUISE  DU  TROUFPLE.  591 

such  scenes  had  been  too  often  repeated  to  make  any  lasting  im- 
pression. 

Madame  du  Trouffle  found  Count  Ranuzi  awaiting  her.  He 
came  forward  with  such  a  joyous  greeting,  that  she  was  flattered, 
and  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  gracious  smile.  She  said  trium- 
phantly to  herself  that  the  power  of  her  charms  was  not  subdued, 
since  the  handsome  and  much  admired  Ranuzi  was  surely  captivated 
by  them. 

The  count  had  pleaded  yesterday  for  an  interview,  and  he  had 
done  this  with  so  mysterious  and  melancholy  a  mien,  that  the  gay 
and  sportive  Louise  had  called  him  the  Knight  of  Toggenberg,  and 
had  asked  him  plaintively  if  he  was  coming  to  die  at  her  feet. 

"Possibly,"  he  answered,  with  grave  earnestness — "possibly,  if 
you  are  cruel  enough  to  refuse  the  request  I  prefer. " 

These  words  had  occupied  the  thoughts  of  this  vain  coquette 
during  the  whole  night ;  she  was  convinced  that  Ranuzi,  ravished 
by  her  beauty,  wished  to  make  her  a  declaration,  and  she  had  been 
hesitating  whether  to  reject  or  encourage  him.  As  he  advanced  so 
gracefully  and  smilingly  to  meet  her,  she  resolved  to  encourage  him 
and  make  him  forget  the  mockery  of  yesterday. 

Possibly  Ranuzi  read  this  in  her  glance,  but  he  did  not  regard  it ; 
he  had  attained  his  aim — the  interview  which  he  desired.  "Ma- 
dame, "  said  he,  "  I  come  to  make  honorable  amends,  and  to  plead  at 
your  feet  for  pardon. "  He  bowed  on  one  knee,  and  looked  up  be- 
seechingly. 

Louise  found  that  his  languishing  and  at  the  same  time  glowing 
eyes  were  very  beautiful,  and  she  was  entirely  ready  to  be  gracious, 
although  she  did  not  know  the  offence.  "Stand  up,  count, "said 
she,  "and  let  us  talk  reasonably  together.  What  have  you  done, 
and  for  what  must  I  forgive  you  ?" 

"  You  annihilate  me  with  your  magnanimity,"  sighed  Ranuzi. 
"  You  are  so  truly  noble  as  to  have  forgotten  my  boldness  of  yes- 
terday, and  you  choose  to  forget  that  the  poor,  imprisoned  soldier, 
intoxicated  by  your  beauty,  carried  away  by  your  grace  and  amia- 
bility, has  dared  to  love  you  and  to  confess  it.  But  I  swear  to  you, 
madame,  I  will  never  repeat  this  offence.  The  graceful  mockery 
and  keen  wit  with  which  you  pimished  me  yesterday  has  deeply 
moved  me,  and  I  assure  you,  madame,  you  have  had  more  influence 
over  me  than  any  prude  with  her  most  eloquent  sermon  on  virtue 
could  have  done.  I  have  seen  my  crime,  and  never  again  will  my 
lips  dare  to  confess  what  lives  and  glows  in  my  heart. "  He  took 
her  hand  and  kissed  it  most  respectfully. 

Louise  was  strangely  surprised,  and-  it  seemed  to  her  not  at  all 
necessary  for  the  count  to  preserve  so  inviolable  a  silence  as  to  his 


292       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

love  ;  but  she  was  obliged  to  appear  pleased,  and  she  did  this  with 
facility  and  grace. 

"  I  thank  you, "  she  said,  gayly,  "  that  you  have  freed  me  from  a 
lover  whom,  as  the  wife  of  Major  du  Trouffle,  I  should  have  been 
compelled  to  banish  from  my  house.  Now  I  dare  give  a  pleasant, 
kindly  welcome,  to  Count  Ranuzi,  and  be  ready  at  all  times  to 
serve  him  gladly. " 

Ranuzi  looked  steadily  at  her.  "Will  you  truly  do  this?"  said 
he,  sighing — "will  you  interest  yourself  for  a  poor  prisoner,  who 
has  no  one  to  hear  and  sympathize  in  his  sorrows?" 

Louise  gave  him  her  hand.  "Confide  in  me,  sir  count,"  said 
she,  with  an  impulse  of  her  better  nature  ;  "  make  known  your  sor- 
rows, and  be  assured  that  I  will  take  an  interest  in  them.  You  are 
so  prudent  and  reasonable  as  not  to  be  my  lover,  and  I  will  be  your 
friend.  Here  is  my  hand — I  offer  you  my  friendship ;  will  you 
accept  it?" 

"Will  I  accept  it?"  said  he,  rapturously  ;  "you  offer  me  life,  and 
ask  if  I  will  accept  it  1" 

Louise  smiled  softly.  She  found  that  Ranuzi  declared  his  friend- 
ship in  almost  as  glowing  terms  as  he  had  confessed  his  love.  "  So 
then, "  said  she,  "  you  have  sorrows  that  you  dare  not  name  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  not  my  own  individual  griefs  I  suffer,  but  it 
is  for  another." 

" That  sounds  mysterious.     For  whom  do  you  suffer?" 

"For  a  poor  prisoner,  who,  far  from  the  world,  far  from  the 
haunts  of  men,  languishes  in  wretchedness  and  chains — whom  not 
only  men  but  God  has  forgotten,  for  He  will  not  even  send  His  min- 
ister Death  to  release  him.  I  cannot,  I  dare  not  say  more — it  is  not 
my  secret,  and  I  have  sworn  to  disclose  it  to  but  one  person. " 

"And  this  pei-son — " 

"Is  the  Princess  Amelia  of  Prussia,"  said  Ranuzi. 

Louise  shrank  back,  and  looked  searchingly  at  the  count.  "A 
sister  of  the  king  !  And  you  say  that  your  secret  relates  to  a  poor 
prisoner?" 

"  I  said  so.  Oh,  my  noble,  magnanimous  friend,  do  not  ask  me 
to  say  more  ;  I  dare  not,  but  I  entreat  you  to  help  me.  I  must  speak 
with  the  princess.  You  are  her  confidante  and  friend,  you  alone 
can  obtain  me  an  interview. " 

"It  is  impossible  !  impossible  !"  cried  Madame  du  Trouffle,  rising 
up  and  pacing  the  room  hastily.  Ranuzi  followed  her  with  his 
eyes,  observed  every  movement,  and  read  in  her  countenance  every 
emotion  of  her  soul. 

"I  will  succeed,"  said  he  to  himself,  and  proud  triumph  swelled 
bis  heart. 


THE  FORTUNE-TELLER  293 

Louise  drew  near  and  stood  before  him. 

"Listen,"  said  she,  gravely ;  "it  is  a  daring,  a  dangerous  enter- 
prise in  which  you  wish  to  entangle  me — doubly  dangerous  for  me, 
as  the  king  suspects  me,  and  he  would  never  forgive  it  if  he  should 
learn  that  I  had  dared  to  act  against  his  commaxids,  and  to  assist 
the  Princess  Amelia  to  save  an  unhappy  wretch  whom  he  had  irre- 
trievably condemned.  I  knov,'  well  who  this  prisoner  is,  but  do  not 
call  his  name — it  is  dangerous  to  speak  it,  even  to  think  it.  I  be- 
long not  to  the  confidantes  of  the  princess  in  this  matter,  and  I  do 
not  desire  it.  Speak  no  more  of  the  prisoner,  but  of  yourself.  You 
wish  to  be  presented  to  the  princess.  "Why  not  apply  to  Baron 
Pollnitz?" 

"  I  have  not  gold  enough  to  bribe  him  ;  and,  besides  that,  he  is  a 
babbler,  and  purchasable.     To-morrow  he  would  betray  me. " 

"You  are  right ;  and  he  could  not  obtain  j'ou  a  secret  interview. 
One  of  the  maids  of  honor  must  always  be  present,  and  the  princess 
is  surrounded  by  many  spies.  But  there  is  a  means,  and  it  lies  in 
my  hands.     Listen !" 

Louise  bowed  and  whispered. 

Ranuzi's  face  sparkled  with  triumph. 

"To-morrow,  then,"  said  he,  as  he  withdrew. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Louise,  "expect  me  at  the  castle  gate,  and  be 
punctual. " 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    FORTUNE-TELLER. 

The  heavy  curtains  were  drawn  down,  and  a  gloomy  twilight 
reigned  in  this  great,  silent  room,  whose  dreary  stillness  was  only 
interrupted  by  the  monotonous  stroke  of  the  clock,  and  the  deep 
sighs  and  lamentations  which  came  from  the  sofa  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  room.  There  in  the  comer,  drawn  up  convulsively  and  mo- 
tionless, lay  a  female  form,  her  hands  clasped  over  her  breast,  her 
eyes  fixed  staringly  toward  heaven,  and  from  time  to  time  uttering 
words  of  grief  and  scorn  and  indignation. 

She  was  alone  in  her  anguish — ever  alone ;  she  had  been  alone 
for  many  years ;  grief  and  disappointment  had  hardened  her  heart, 
and  made  it  insensible  to  all  sorrows  but  her  own.  She  hated  men, 
she  hated  the  world,  she  railed  at  those  who  were  gay  and  happy, 
she  had  no  pity  for  those  who  wept  and  mourned. 

Had  she  not  suffered  more?  Did  she  not  still  suffer?  Wlio  had 
been  merciful,  who  had  pitied  her  sorrows?    Look  now  at  this  poor. 


294        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAJIILY. 

groaning  woman !  Do  you  recognize  these  fearful  features,  de- 
formed by  sickness  and  grief;  these  blood-shot  eyes,  these  thin, 
colorless  lips,  ever  conTulsively  pressed  together,  as  if  to  suppress  a 
wild  shriek  of  agony,  which  are  only  unclosed  to  utter  cold,  harsh 
words  of  scorn  and  passion?  Do  you  know  this  woman?  Has  this 
poor,  imhappy,  deformed  being  any  resemblance  to  the  gay,  beauti- 
ful, intellectual  Princess  Amelia,  whom  we  once  knew?  and  yet 
this  is  the  Princess  Amelia.  How  have  the  mighty  fallen  !  Look 
at  the  transforming  power  of  a  few  sorrowful  years !  The  sister  of  a 
mighty  hero  king,  but  a  poor  desolate  creature,  shunned  and  avoided 
by  all ;  she  knows  that  men  fly  from  her,  and  she  will  have  it  so  ; 
she  will  be  alone — lonely  in  the  midst  of  the  world,  even  as  he  is,  in 
the  midst  of  his  dark  and  gloomy  prison.  Amelia  calls  the  tvhole 
world  her  prison ;  she  often  says  to  herself  that  her  soul  is  shut  in 
behind  the  iron  bars  of  her  body  and  can  never  be  delivered,  that 
her  heart  lies  upon  the  burning  gridiron  of  the  base  world,  and  can- 
not escape,  it  is  bound  there  with  the  same  chains  which  are  around 
about  and  hold  him  in  captivity. 

But  Amelia  says  this  only  to  herself,  she  desires  no  sympathy, 
she  knows  no  one  will  dare  to  pity  her.  Destiny  placed  her  high  in 
rank  and  alone — alone  she  will  remain  ;  her  complaints  might  per- 
haps bring  new  danger  to  him  she  loves,  of  whom  alone  she  thinks, 
for  whose  sake  alone  she  supports  existence,  she  lives  only  for  him. 
Can  this  be  called  life?  A  perpetual  hope — and  yet  hopeless — a  con- 
stant watching  and  listening  for  one  happy  moment,  which  never 
comes !  She  had  not  been  permitted  to  live  for  him,  she  would  not 
die  without  him.  So  long  as  he  lived  he  might  need  her  aid,  and 
might  call  upon  her  for  help  in  the  hour  of  extremest  need,  so  she 
would  not  die. 

She  was  not  wholly  dead,  but  her  youth,  her  heart,  her  peace, 
her  illusions,  her  hopes  were  dead ;  she  was  opposed  to  all  that 
lived,  to  the  world,  to  all  mankind.  In  the  wide  world  she  loved 
but  two  persons :  one,  who  languished  in  prison  and  who  suffered 
for  her  sake,  Frederick  von  Trenck ;  the  other,  he  who  had  made 
her  wretched  and  who  had  the  power  to  liberate  Trenck  and  restore 
their  peace — the  king.  Amelia  had  loved  her  mother,  but  she  was 
dead ;  grief  at  the  lost  battle  of  Collin  killed  her.  She  had  loved 
her  sister,  the  Margravine  of  Baireuth ;  but  she  died  of  despair 
at  the  lost  battle  of  Hochkirch.  Grief  and  the  anger  and  contempt 
of  the  king  had  killed  her  brother,  the  Prince  Augustus  William  of 
Prussia.  She  was  therefore  alone,  alone !  Her  other  sisters  were 
far  awaj' ;  they  were  happy,  and  with  the  happy  she  had  nothing  to 
do ;  with  them  she  had  no  sympathy.  Her  two  brothers  were  in 
the  field,  they  thought  not  of  her.     There  was  but  one  who  remem> 


THE  FORTU:nE  TELLER.  ^95 

bered  her,  and  he  was  under  the  earth — not  dead,  but  buried — buried 
alive.  The  blackness  of  thick  darkness  is  round  about  him,  but  he 
is  not  blind  ;  there  is  glorious  sunshine,  but  he  sees  it  not. 

These  fearful  thoughts  had  crushed  Amelia's  youth,  her  mind, 
her  life ;  she  stood  like  a  desolate  ruin  under  the  wreck  of  the  past. 
The  rude  storms  of  life  whistled  over  her,  and  she  laughed  them  to 
scorn ;  she  had  no  more  to  fear — not  she ;  if  an  oak  fell,  if  a  fair 
flower  was  cmshed,  her  heart  was  glad  ;  her  own  wretchedness  had 
made  her  envious  and  malicious ;  perhaps  she  concealed  her  sym- 
pathy, under  this  seeming  harshness  ;  perhaps  she  gave  hei*self  the 
appearance  of  proud  reserve,  knowing  that  she  was  feared  and 
avoided.  Whoever  drew  near  her  was  obsei-ved  and  suspected  ;  the 
spies  of  the  king  surrounded  her  and  kept  her  friends,  if  she  had 
friends,  far  off.  Perhaps  Amelia  would  have  been  less  unhappy  if 
she  had  fled  for  shelter  to  Him  who  is  the  refuge  of  all  hearts ;  if 
she  had  turned  to  her  God  in  her  anguish  and  despair.  But  she  was 
not  a  pious  believer,  like  the  noble  and  patient  Elizabeth  Christine, 
the  disdained  wife  of  Frederick  the  Great. 

Princess  Amelia  was  the  true  sister  of  the  king,  the  pupil  of 
Voltaire ;  she  mocked  at  the  chm-ch  and  scorned  the  consolations  of 
religion.  She  also  was  forced  to  pay  some  tribute  to  her  sex  ;  she 
failed  in  the  strong,  self-confident,  intellectual  independence  of 
Frederick  ;  her  poor,  weak,  trembling  hands  wandered  around  seek- 
ing support ;  as  religion,  in  its  mighty  mission,  was  rejected,  she 
turned  for  consolation  to  superstition.  While  Elizabeth  Christine 
prayed,  Amelia  tried  her  fortune  with  cards ;  while  the  queen 
gathered  around  her  ministers  of  the  gospel  and  pious  scholars,  the 
princess  called  to  the  prophets  and  fortune-tellei-s.  While  Eliza- 
beth found  comfort  in  reading  the  Holy  Scriptures,  Amelia  found 
consolation  in  the  mystical  and  enigmatical  words  of  her  sooth- 
sayers. While  the  queen  translated  sermons  and  pious  hymns  into 
French,  Amelia  wTOte  down  carefully  all  the  prophecies  of  her 
cards,  her  coffee-grounds,  and  the  stars,  and  both  ladies  sent  their 
manuscripts  to  the  king. 

Frederick  received  them  both  with  a  kindly  and  pitiful  smile. 
The  pious  manuscript  of  the  queen  was  laid  aside  unread,  but  the 
oracles  of  the  princess  were  carefully  looked  over.  Perhaps  this  was 
done  in  pity  for  the  poor,  wounded  spirit  which  found  distraction 
in  such  child's  play.  It  iSfCertain  that  when  the  king  wrote  to  the 
princess,  he  thanked  her  for  her  manuscripts,  and  asked  her  to  con- 
tinue to  send  them.*  But  he  also  demanded  perfect  silence  as  to 
this  strange  correspondence ;  he  feared  his  enemies  might  falsely 
interpret  his  consideration  for  the  weakness  of  the  princess ;  they 
♦  Thlfibault,  p.  27». 


29^       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

might  suppose  that  he  needed  these  prophecies  to  lead  him  on  to 
victory,  as  his  adversaries  needed  the  consecrated  sword. 

This  was  one  of  the  days  on  wnich  the  princess  was  accustomed 
to  receive  her  fortune-teller ;  she  had  been  very  angry  when  told 
that  she  was  under  arrest ;  neither  the  prophet  nor  the  fortune-teller 
were  at  liberty,  and  the  princess  was  not  able  to  obtain  their  release. 
She  would,  therefore,  have  been  compelled  to  forego  her  usual  occu- 
pation for  the  evening,  had  not  Madame  du  Trouffle  come  to  her 
aid.  Louise  had  written  that  morning  to  the  princess,  and  asked 
permission  to  introduce  a  new  soothsayer,  whose  prophecies  aston. 
ished  the  world,  as,  so  far,  they  had  been  literally  fulfilled.  Amelia 
received  this  proposition  joyfully,  and  now  waited  impatiently  for 
Madame  du  Trouffle  and  the  soothsayer ;  but  she  was  yet  alone,  it 
was  not  necessary  to  hide  her  grief  in  stoical  indifference,  to  still 
the  groans  of  agony  which,  like  the  last  sighs  from  a  death-bed, 
rang  from  her  breast. 

The  princess  suffered  not  only  from  mental  anguish ;  her  body 
was  as  sick  as  her  soul.  The  worm  gnawing  at  her  heart  was  also 
devouring  her  body  ;  but  neither  for  body  nor  soul  would  she  accept 
a  physician,  she  refused  all  sympathy  for  intellectual  and  physical 
pain.  Amelia  suffered  and  was  silent,  and  only  when  as  now  she 
was  certain  there  was  no  eye  to  see,  no  ear  to  hear  her  complaints, 
did  she  give  utterance  to  them.  And  now  the  maid  entered  and 
announced  Madame  du  Trouffle  and  the  prophet. 

"  Let  them  enter, "  said  the  prin  ^ess  in  a  hollow,  death-like  voice ; 
"  let  them  enter,  and  remain  yourself,  Fraulein  Lethow  ;  the  sooth- 
sayer shall  tell  your  fortune. " 

Tlie  door  opened,  and  Madame  du  Trouffle  entered.  She  was  gay 
and  lovely  as  ever,  and  drew  near  the  princess  with  a  cliarming 
smile.     Amelia  returned  her  salutation  coldly  and  carelessly. 

"How  many  hours  have  you  spent  at  your  toilet  to-day?"  said 
she,  roughly  ;  "  and  where  do  you  buy  the  rouge  with  which  you 
have  painted  your  cheeks  ?" 

"  Ah,  your  royal  highness, "  said  Louise,  smiling,  "  Nature  has 
been  kind  to  me,  and  has  painted  my  cheeks  with  her  own  sweet 
and  cunning  hand. " 

"Then  Nature  is  in  covenant  with  you,  and  helps  you  to  deceive 
yourself  to  imagine  that  you  are  yet  young.  I  am  told  that  your 
daughter  is  grown  up  and  wondrously  beaptiful,  and  that  only  when 
you  stand  near  her  is  it  seen  how  old  and  ugly  you  are. " 

Louise  knew  the  rancor  of  the  unhappy  princess,  and  she  knew 
no  one  could  approach  her  without  being  wounded — that  the  undy 
ing  worm  in  her  soul  was  only  satisfied  with  the  blood  it  caused  to 
flow.     The  harsh  words  of  the  princess  had  no  sting  for  her.     "  If  I 


THE  Fortuneteller.  29^ 

were  truly  old, "  said  she,  "  I  would  live  in  my  daughter :  she  is  said 
to  be  my  image,  and  when  she  is  praised,  I  feel  myself  flattered." 

"  A  day  will  come  when  she  will  be  blamed  and  you  will  also 
be  reproached, "  murmured  Amelia.  After  a  patise  she  said  :  "  So 
you  have  brought  me  another  deceiver  who  declares  himself  a 
prophet?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  him  to  be  an  impostor,  your  highness.  He  has 
given  me  convincing  proofs  of  his  inspiration." 

"  What  sort  of  proofs  ?  How  can  these  people  who  prophesy  of 
the  future  prove  that  they  are  inspired  ?" 

"  He  has  not  told  me  of  the  future,  but  of  tlie  past, "  said  Louise. 

"  Has  he  had  the  courage  to  recall  any  portion  of  your  past  to 
you?"  said  the  princess,  witli  a  coarse  laugh. 

"  Many  droll  and  meriy  portions,  your  highness,  and  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  they  were  all  true,"  she  said,  with  comic  pathos. 

"Bring  in  this  soothsayer,  Fraulein  von  Lethow.  He  shall 
prophesy  of  you :  I  think  you  have  not,  like  Madame  du  Trouffle, 
any  reason  to  fear  a  picture  of  your  past. " 

The  prophet  entered.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  long  black  robe, 
which  was  gathered  around  his  slender  form  by  a  black  leathern 
girdle  covered  with  curious  and  strange  figures  and  emblems ;  raven 
black  hair  fell  arovmd  his  small,  pale  face ;  his  eyes  burned  with 
clcuded  fire,  and  flashed  quickly  around  the  room.  With  head  erect 
and  proud  bearing,  he  drew  near  the  princess,  and  only  when  very 
near  did  he  salute  her,  and  in  a  sweet,  soft,  melodious  voice,  asked 
why  she  wished  to  see  him. 

"  If  you  are  truly  a  prophet,  you  will  know  my  reasons. " 

"Would  you  learn  of  the  past?"  said  he,  solemnly. 

"  And  why  not  first  of  the  future  ?" 

"  Because  your  highness  distrusts  me  and  would  prove  me.  Will 
you  permit  me  to  take  my  cards?  If  you  allow  it,  I  will  first  proph- 
esy to  this  lady."  He  took  a  mass  of  soiled,  curiously  painted 
cards,  and  spread  them  out  before  him  on  the  table.  He  took  the 
hand  of  Fraulein  Lethow  and  seemed  to  read  it  earnestly  ;  and  now, 
in  a  low,  musical  voice,  he  related  little  incidents  of  the  past. 
They  were  piquant  little  anecdotes  which  had  been  secretly  whis- 
pered at  the  court,  but  which  no  one  dared  to  speak  aloud,  as  Frau- 
lein Lethow  passed  for  a  model  of  virtue  and  piet)'. 

She  received  these  developments  of  the  prophet  with  visible 
scorn.  In  place  of  laughing,  and  by  smiling  indifference  bringing 
their  truth  in  question,  she  was  excited  and  angry,  and  thus  pre- 
pared for  the  princess  some  gay  and  happy  moments. 

"I  dare  not  decide, "  said  Amelia,  as  the  prophet  ceased,  "whether 
what  you  have  told  is  true  or  false.     Fraulein  Lethow  alone  can 

20 


298       FREDERICK  THE  OREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

know  that ;  but  she  will  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  call  you  an  impostor, 
for  that  would  prevent  me  from  having  my  fortune  told.  Allow 
me,  therefore,  to  believe  that  you  have  spoken  the  truth.  Now  take 
your  cards  and  shuffle  them. " 

"Does  your  highness  wish  that  I  should  tell  you  of  the  pastV" 
said  the  soothsayer,  in  a  shai"p  voice. 

Tlie  princess  hisitated.  "  Yes, "  said  she,  " of  my  past.  But  no; 
I  will  first  hear  a  little  chapter  out  of  the  life  of  my  chaste  and 
modest  Louise.  Now,  now,  madame,  you  have  nothing  to  fear; 
you  are  pure  and  innocent,  and  this  little  recitation  of  your  by-gone 
days  will  seem  to  us  a  chapter  from  'La  Pucelle  d'Orleans. '" 

"  I  dare  to  oppose  myself  to  this  lecture, "  said  Louise,  laughing. 
"There  are  books  which  should  only  be  read  in  solitude,  and  to  that 
class  belong  the  volumes  of  my  past  life.  I  am  ready  in  the  presence 
of  your  highness  to  have  my  future  prophesied,  but  of  my  past  I 
will  hear  nothing — I  know  too  much  already." 

"Had  I  been  alone  with  Fraulein  Lethow,  I  should  have  told  her 
many  other  things,  and  she  would  have  been  forced  to  believe  in  my 
power.  Only  when  these  cards  are  under  your  eyes  is  my  spirit 
clear. " 

"  I  must,  then,  in  order  to  know  the  whole  truth  from  you,  be 
entirely  alone?"  said  the  princess. 

Tlie  prophet  bowed  silently.  Amelia  fixed  a  piercing  glance 
upon  him,  and  nodded  to  her  ladies. 

"Go  into  the  next  room,"  said  she.  "And  now,"  said  the  prin- 
cess, "  you  can  begin. " 

The  magician,  instead  of  taking  the  cards,  knelt  before  the  prin- 
cess and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe.  "  I  pray  for  mercy  and  for- 
giveness, "  said  he  ;  "I  am  nothing  but  a  poor  impostor !  In  order 
to  reach  the  presence  of  your  royal  highness,  I  have  disguised  myself 
under  this  mask,  which  alone  made  it  possible.  But  I  swear  to  you, 
princess,  no  one  knows  of  this  attempt,  no  one  can  ever  know  it — I 
alone  am  guilty.  Pardon,  then,  princess — pardon  for  this  bold  act. 
I  was  forced  to  this  step — forced  to  clasp  your  knees — to  implore 
you  in  your  greatness  and  magnanimity,  to  stand  by  me !  I  was 
impelled  in-esistibly,  for  I  had  sworn  a  fearful  oath  to  do  this 
thing. " 

"To  whom  have  you  sworn?"  said  the  princess,  sternly.  "Who 
are  you?  what  do  you  ask  of  me?" 

"  I  am  Count  Ranuzi,  Austrian  captain  and  prisoner  of  war.  I 
implore  you,  noble  princess,  to  have  mercy  upon  a  poor,  helpless 
prisoner,  consumed  with  grief  and  despair.  God  and  the  world 
have  forsaken  him,  but  he  has  one  protecting  angel  in  whom  he 
trusts,  to  whom  he  prays— and  her  name  is  Amelia !    He  is  bound 


THE  FORTUNE  TELLER.  299 

in  chains  like  a  wild  beast — a  hard  stone  is  liis  couch,  and  a  vault 
beneath  is  his  grave— he  is  living  and  buried — his  heart  lives  and 
heaves  and  calls  to  you,  princess,  for  rescue." 

The  Princess  Amelia  shrank  back  trembling  and  groaning  on  the 
sofa ;  her  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  staring  in  the  distance.  After 
a  long  pause,  she  said,  slowly  :  "Call  his  name." 

"  Frederick  von  Trenck !" 

Amelia  shuddered,  and  uttered  a  low  cry.  "Trenck!"  repeated 
she,  softly ;  "oh,  what  sad  melody  lies  in  that  word  !  It  is  like  the 
death-ciy  of  my  youth.  I  think  the  very  air  must  weep  when  this 
name  vibrates  upon  it.  Ti-enck,  Trenck  I  How  beautiful,  how 
lovely  that  sounds ;  it  is  a  sweet,  harmonious  song  ;  it  sings  to  me 
softly  of  the  only  happiness  of  my  life.  Ah,  how  long,  how  long 
since  this  song  was  silenced  I  All  within  me  is  desolate  1  On  every 
side  my  heart  is  torn — on  every  side  I  Oh,  so  drear,  so  fearful ! 
All  I  all !"  Lost  in  her  own  thoughts,  these  words  had  l^een  slowly 
uttered.  She  had  forgotten  that  she  was  not  alone  with  her  remem- 
brances, which  like  a  cloud  had  gathered  round  about  her  and  shut 
off  the  outward  world. 

Ranuzi  did  not  dare  to  recall  her  thoughts — he  still  knelt  at  her 
feet. 

Suddenly  her  whole  frame  trembled,  and  she  sprang  up.  "  My 
God !  I  dream,  while  he  calls  me !  I  am  idly  musing,  and  Trenck 
has  need  of  me.  Speak,  sir,  speak  I  What  do  you  know  of  him? 
Have  you  seen  him 7    Did  he  send  you  to  me?" 

"He  sent  me,  your  highness,  but  I  have  not  seen  him.  Have  the 
grace  to  listen  to  me.  Ah,  your  highness,  in  what  I  now  say  I  lay 
the  safety  of  a  dear  and  valued  friend,  yes,  his  life,  at  your  feet. 
One  word  from  you,  and  he  wiU  be  delivered  over  to  a  court-martial 
and  be  shot.  But  you  will  not  speak  that  word — you  are  an  angel 
of  mercy." 

"  Speak,  sir — speak,  sir, "  said  Amelia,  breathlessly.  "  My  God  ! 
do  you  not  see  that  I  am  dying  from  agitation?" 

"  Princess,  Trenck  lives — he  is  in  chains — he  is  in  a  hole  under 
the  earth — but  he  lives,  and  as  long  as  he  has  life,  he  hopes  in  you 
— has  wild  dreams  of  liberty,  and  his  friends  think  and  Jxope  with 
him.  Trenck  has  friends  who  are  ready  to  offer  up  their  lives  for 
him.  One  of  them  is  in  the  fortress  of  Magdeburg — he  is  lieutenant 
of  the  guard ;  another  is  a  Captain  Kimsky,  prisoner  of  war  ;  I  am 
a  third.  I  have  known  Trenck  since  my  youth.  In  our  beautiful 
days  of  mirth  and  revelry,  we  swore  to  stand  by  each  other  in  every 
danger.  The  moment  has  come  to  fulfil  my  oath — Trenck  is  a  pris- 
oner, and  I  must  help  to  liberate  him.  Our  numbers  ate  few  and 
dismembered— we  need  allies  in  the  fortress,  and  still  more  in  the 


500        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

city.  "We  need  powerful  assistance,  and  no  one  but  your  highness 
can  obtain  it  for  us. " 

"  I  have  an  assured  and  confidential  friend  in  Magdeburg, "  said 
the  princess ;  "  at  a  hint  from  me  he  will  be  ready  to  stand  by  you 
to-" 

Suddenly  she  was  silent,  and  cast  a  searching,  threatening  glance 
at  Ranuzi.  She  had  been  too  often  deceived  and  circumvented — 
snares  had  been  too  often  laid  at  her  feet — she  was  distrustful.  "  No, 
no, "  said  she,  at  last,  sternly,  rudely — "  I  will  take  no  part  in  this 
folly.  Go,  sir — go.  You  are  a  poor  soothsayer,  and  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  you. " 

Ranuzi  smiled,  and  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his  bosom,  which 
he  handed  to  the  princess.  It  contained  these  words  :  "  Count  Ranuzi 
is  an  honest  man — he  can  be  trusted  unconditionally. "  Under  these 
words  was  written  :  "  Nel  tue  giorni  felici,  vicordati  da  me. " 

The  breast  of  Amelia  heaved  convulsively — she  gazed  at  these 
written  characters ;  at  last  her  eyes  filled  with  tears — at  last  her 
heart  was  overcome  by  those  painful  and  passionate  feelings  which 
she  had  so  long  kept  in  bondage.  She  pressed  the  paper,  the  lines  on 
which  were  written  with  his  blood,  to  her  lips,  and  hot  tears  gushed 
from  those  poor  eyes  which  for  long,  long  years,  had  lost  the  power 
to  weep. 

"  Now,  sir, "  said  she,  "  I  believe  in  you,  I  trust  you.  Tell  me 
what  I  have  to  do. " 

"  Three  things  fail  us,  princess :  A  hoTise  in  Magdeburg,  where 
Trenck's  friends  can  meet  at  all  hours,  and  make  all  necessary  prepa- 
rations, and  where  he  can  be  concealed  after  his  escape.  Secondly, 
a  few  reliable  and  confiding  friends,  who  will  unite  with  us  and 
aid  us.  Thirdly,  we  must  have  gold— we  must  bribe  the  guard,  we 
must  buy  horses,  we  must  buy  friends  in  the  fortress,  and  lastly,  we 
must  buy  French  clothing.  Besides  this,  I  must  have  permission 
to  go  for  a  few  days  to  Magdeburg,  and  there  on  the  spot  I  can  better 
make  the  final  preparations.  A  fair  pretext  shall  not  fail  me  for 
this ;  Captain  Kimsky  is  my  near  relative — he  will  be  taken  sud- 
denly ill,  and  as  a  dying  request  he  will  beg  to  see  me  ;  one  of  his 
comrades  will  bring  me  notice  of  this,  and  I  will  turn  imploringly 
to  your  highness. " 

"  I  will  obtain  you  a  passport, "  said  Amelia,  decisively. 

"While  in  Magdeburg,  the  flight  will  be  arranged. " 

"  And  you  believe  you  will  succeed?"  said  the  princess,  with  a 
bright  smile,  which  illuminated  her  poor  deformed  visage  with  a 
golden  ray  of  hope. 

"  I  do  not  only  believe  it,  I  know  it ;  that  is,  if  your  royal  high- 
ness will  assist  us. " 


THE  FORTUNE  TELLER.  301 

The  princess  made  no  reply  ;  she  stepped  to  her  desk  and  took 
from  it  several  rolls  of  gold,  then  seated  herself  and  wrote  with  a 
swift  hand :  "  You  must  trust  the  bearer  fully,  he  is  my  friend ; 
assist  him  in  all  that  he  undertakes."  She  folded  the  paper  and 
sealed  it. 

Ranuzi  followed  every  movement  with  flashing  eyes  and  loudly 
beating  heart.  As  she  took  the  pen  to  write  the  address  a  ray  of 
wild  triumph  lighted  his  dark  face,  and  a  proud  smile  played  about 
his  mouth.  As  Amelia  turned,  all  this  disappeared,  and  he  was 
dignified  and  grave  as  before. 

"  Take  this,  sir, "  said  she ;  "  you  see  that  I  place  in  your  power 
a  faithful  and  beloved  friend,  he  is  lost  if  you  are  false.  As  soon 
as  you  reach  Magdeburg  go  to  him,  and  he  will  make  other  friends 
and  allies  known  to  you. " 

"  Can  I  make  use  of  this  address,  and  write  under  it  to  my  friend 
Kimsky?"  said  Ranuzi. 

"Yes,  without  danger.  To-day  I  will  find  means  to  inform  him 
that  he  may  expect  this  letter.  Here  is  gold,  two  hundred  ducats, 
all  that  I  have  at  present.  When  this  is  exhausted,  turn  again  to 
me  and  I  will  again  supplj'  you. " 

Ranuzi  took  the  gold  and  said,  smilingly,  "This  is  the  magic 
means  by  which  we  will  break  his  chains. " 

Amelia  took  a  costly  diamond  pin,  which  lay  upon  the  table,  and 
gave  it  to  Ranuzi.  She  pointed  to  the  paper  marked  with  blood, 
which  she  still  held  in  her  hand. 

"  This  is  a  most  precious  jewel  which  you  have  given  me — let  us 
exchange. " 

Ranuzi  fell  upon  his  knees  and  kissed  her  handashe  took  the  pin. 

"And  now,  sir,  go.  My  maid  is  a  salaried  spy,  and  a  longer  in- 
terview would  make  you  suspected.  You  would  be  watched,  and 
all  discovered.  Go !  If  I  believed  in  the  power  of  prayer,  I  would 
lie  upon  my  knees  night  and  day,  and  pray  for  God's  blessing  upon 
your  effort.  As  it  is,  I  can  only  follow  you  with  my  thoughts  and 
hopes.     Farewell !" 

"  Your  royal  highness  sends  no  reply  to  these  lines,  written  with 
Trenck's  heart's  blood?" 

Amelia  took  the  pen  and  wrote  a  few  hasty  lines  upon  the  paper, 
which  she  handed  Ranuzi.  The  words  were;  "Ovunque  tu  sei 
yicina  ti  sono. " 

"Give  him  that,"  said  she;  "it  is  not  written  with  my  heart's 
blood,  but  my  heart  bleeds  for  him — bleeds  ever  inwardly.  And  now 
resume  your  rdle  of  soothsayer— I  must  call  my  ladies. " 

The  afternoon  of  this  day  Ranuzi  wrote  to  his  friend,  Captain 
Kimsky,  prisoner  of  war  at  Magdeburg : 


803       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  The  train  is  laid,  and  will  succeed.  The  fortress  will  soon  be 
in  our  hands.  A  romantic,  sentimental  woman's  heart  is  a  good 
thing,  easily  moved  to  intrigues.  Magdeburg  will  be  ours !  Pi'e- 
pare  everything — be  ill,  and  call  for  me  ;  I  shall  get  a  passport.  I 
have  a  powerful  protectress,  and  with  such,  you  know,  a  man  may 
attain  all  the  desires  of  his  heart !" 


CHAPTER    VI. 

A  COUET  DAY  IN  BERLIN, 

It  was  the  birthday  of  Prince  Henry,  and  was  to  be  celebrated 
with  great  pomp  at  the  court.  The  king  had  himself  written  ex- 
plicitly on  this  subject  to  the  master  of  ceremonies,  Baron  Pollnitz. 
Pollnitz  was,  therefore,  actively  occupied  in  the  early  morning, 
and  no  general  ever  made  his  preparations  for  a  battle  with  more 
earnestness  and  importance  than  the  good  baron  gave  his  orders  for 
the  splendid  f^te  which  was  to  be  given  in  the  royal  apartments 
that  night. 

And  this  was  indeed  a  great  opportunity.  The  people  of  Berlin 
were  to  enjoy  a  ball  and  a  concert,  at  which  all  the  Italian  singers 
were  to  be  present ;  and  then  a  rare  and  costly  supper,  to  which  not 
only  the  court,  but  all  the  officers  who  were  prisoners  of  war  were 
to  be  invited. 

This  supper  was  to  Pollnitz  the  great  circumstance,  the  middle 
point  of  \X\efite.  Such  an  entertainment  was  now  rare  at  the  court 
of  Berlin,  and  many  months  might  pass  away  ere  the  queen  would 
think  of  giving  another  supper.  Pollnitz  knew  that  when  he 
thirsted  now  for  a  luxurious  meal  he  must  enjoy  it  at  his  own  cost, 
and  this  thought  made  him  shudder.  The  worthy  baron  was  at  the 
same  time  a  spendthrift  and  a  miser. 

Four  times  in  every  year  he  had  three  or  four  days  of  rare  and  rich 
enjoyment ;  he  lived  en  grand  seigneur,  and  prepared  for  himself 
every  earthly  luxury  ;  these  were  the  fii*8t  three  or  four  days  of  every 
quarter  in  which  he  received  his  salary.  With  a  lavish  hand  he 
scattered  all  the  gold  which  he  could  keep  back  from  his  greedy 
creditors,  and  felt  himself  young,  rich,  and  happy.  After  the.se 
fleeting  days  of  proud  glory  came  months  of  sad  economy  ;  he  was 
obliged  to  play  the  rdle  of  a  parasitical  plant,  attach  himself  to  some 
firm,  well-rooted  stem,  and  absorb  its  strength  and  muscle.  lu 
these  days  of  restraint  he  watched  like  a  pirate  all  those  who  were 
in  the  condition  to  keep  a  good  table,  and  so  soon  as  he  learned  that 
a  dinner  was  on  hand,  he  knew  how  to  conquer  a  place.     At  these 


A  COURT  DAY  IN  BERLIN.  303 

times  he  was  also  a  passionate  devotee  of  the  card-table,  and  it  was 
the  greatest  proof  of  his  versatility  and  dexterity  that  he  always 
succeeded  in  making  up  his  party,  though  every  man  knew  it  cost 
gold  to  play  cards  with  Pollnitz.  The  grand-master  had  the  exalted 
principles  of  Louis  XV.  of  France,  who  was  also  devoted  to  cards. 
Every  evening  the  great  Louis  set  apart  a  thousand  louis  d'or  to 
win  or  lose.  If  the  king  Avon,  the  gold  went  into  his  private  pocket ; 
if  he  lost,  the  state  treasury  suffered. 

Following  this  royal  example,  Pollnitz  placed  the  gold  he  won  in 
his  pocket ;  if  he  lost,  he  borrowed  the  money  to  pay — he  considered 
this  borrowed  sum  as  also  the  clear  profit  of  his  game ;  he  was 
assured  to  win,  and  in  this  way  he  obtained  his  pocket  money. 

To-day,  however,  he  would  not  be  merry  at  a  strange  table ;  he 
himself  would  do  the  honors,  and  he  had  conducted  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  table  with  a  scholarship  and  knowledge  of  details 
which  would  have  obtained  the  admiration  of  the  Duke  de  Richelieu. 

On  this  occasion  it  w^as  not  necessary  to  restrain  his  luxurious 
desires  and  tastes.  Honor  demanded  that  the  court  should  show 
itself  in  full  pomp  and  splendor,  and  prove  to  the  world  that  this 
long,  wearisome  war  had  not  exhausted  the  royal  treasury,  nor  the 
royal  table  service  of  silver ;  in  short,  that  it  was  an  easy  thing  to 
carry  on  the  war,  without  resorting  to  the  private  treasures  of  the 
royal  house. 

It  was,  therefore,  necessary  to  bring  out  for  this  great  occasion 
the  golden  service  which  had  been  the  king's  inheritance  from  his 
mother.  Frederick's  portion  had  been  lately  increased  by  the  death 
of  the  Margravine  of  Baireuth,  who  had  explicitly  willed  her  part 
to  her  brother  Frederick.* 

The  queen  and  the  princesses  were  to  appear  in  all  the  splendor 
of  their  jewels,  and  by  their  costly  and  exquisite  toilets  impose  upon 
these  proud  and  haughty  officers,  whom  fate  had  sent  as  prisoners 
of  war  to  Berlin,  and  who  would  not  fail  to  inform  their  respective 
governments  of  all  they  saw  in  the  capital. 

This  fete  was  a  demonstration  made  by  the  king  to  his  over-con- 
fident enemies.  He  would  prove  to  them  that  if  he  wished  for  peace 
it  was  not  because  the  gold  failed  to  carry  on  the  war,  but  because 
he  wished  to  give  rest  and  the  opportunity  to  recover  to  Europe, 
groaning  and  bleeding  from  a  thousand  wounds.  Besides  this,  the 
king  wished  to  show  his  subjects,  by  the  celebration  of  his  brother's 
birthday,  how  highly  he  honored  the  prince — how  gladly  he  em- 

*  When  the  court  fled,  after  the  battle  of  KUnendorf ,  to  Magdeburg,  they  took 
the  golden  service  which  the  king  inherited  from  his  mother  with  them;  that  portion 
given  to  Frederick  by  the  margravine  was  left  in  Berlin,  and  the  next  year,  1760,  was 
seized  by  the  Russians  and  carried  to  Petersburg.— "Geschicljte  Berlins,"  vol.  ▼..  p-  '4i 


304        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

braced  the  opportunity  to  distinguish  the  young  general  who,  dur- 
ing the  whole  war,  had  not  lost  a  single  battle  ;  but,  by  his  bold  and 
masterly  movements,  had  come  to  the  king's  help  in  the  most  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous  moments. 

This  celebration  should  be  a  refutation  of  the  rumors  spread 
abroad  by  the  king's  enemies,  that  Frederick  regarded  the  success 
and  militarj'  talent  of  his  brother  with  jealous  envy. 

There  were,  therefore,  many  reasons  why  Pollnitz  should  make 
this  a  luxurious  and  dazzling  feast ;  he  knew  also  that  Prince  Henry 
would  receive  a  detailed  account  of  the  celebration  from  his  adju- 
tant, Ck)unt  Kalkreuth,  who  had  lingered  some  months  in  Berlin 
because  of  his  wounds,  was  now  fully  restored,  and  would  leave 
Berlin  the  morning  after  the  ball  to  return  to  the  army. 

And  now  the  important  hour  had  arrived.  Pollnitz  wandered 
through  the  saloons  with  the  searching  glance  of  a  warrior  on  the 
field  of  battle  ;  he  pronounced  that  all  was  good. 

The  saloons  were  dazzling  with  light ;  pomp  and  splendor  reigned 
throughout,  and  on  entering  the  supper-room  you  were  almost 
blinded  by  the  array  of  gold  and  silver  adorning  the  costly  buffet,  on 
whose  glittering  surface  the  lights  were  a  thousand  times  reflected. 

Suddenly  the  rooms  began  to  fill ;  everywhere  gold-embroidered 
uniforms,  orders,  stars,  and  flashing  gems  were  to  be  seen ;  a  pro- 
miscuous and  strange  crowd  was  moving  through  these  lofty  saloons, 
illuminated  by  thousands  of  lights  and  odorous  with  the  fragrance 
of  flowers. 

Side  by  side  with  the  rich,  fantastic  uniform  of  the  Russian,  was 
seen  the  light  and  active  French  chasseiu* ;  here  was  to  be  seen  the 
Hungarian  hussar,  whose  variegated  and  tasteful  costume  contrasted 
curiously  with  the  dark  and  simple  uniform  of  the  Spaniard,  who 
stood  near  him,  both  conversing  gayly  with  an  Italian,  dressed  in 
the  white  coat  of  an  Austrian  officer. 

It  seemed  as  if  every  nation  in  Europe  had  arranged  a  rendezvous 
for  this  day  in  the  royal  palace  at  Berlin,  or  as  if  the  great  Frederick 
had  sent  specimens  to  his  people  of  all  the  various  nations  against 
whom  he  had  undertaken  this  gigantic  war. 

There  were  not  only  Germans  from  all  the  provinces,  but  Italians, 
Spaniards,  Russians,  Swedes,  Hungarians,  Netherlanders,  and 
Frenchmen.  All  these  were  prisoners  of  war — their  swords  had 
been  stained  with  the  blood  of  Prussians ;  the  fate  of  war  now  con- 
fined them  to  the  scabbard,  and  changed  the  enemies  of  the  king 
into  guests  at  his  court. 

Hundreds  of  captive  officers  were  now  waiting  in  the  saloon  for 
the  appearance  of  the  queen,  but  the  Prussian  army  was  scarcely 
represented.    AU  wjio  were  fit  fpr  ^^r^ii^e  w^re  ip  tb?  fiel<J,  pnly 


A  COURT  DAY  IN  BERLIN.  305 

the  invalids  and  the  old  warriors,  too  infirm  for  active  duty  had 
remained  at  the  capital ;  even  the  youths  who  had  not  attained  the 
legal  age  for  military  duty,  had  hastened  to  the  army,  full  of  cour- 
age and  enthusiasm,  inspired  by  the  example  of  their  fathers  and 
brothers. 

The  dazzling  appearance  of  these  royal  saloons  was  therefore 
mostly  owing  to  the  flashing  uniforms  of  the  prisoners  of  war. 
Only  a  few  old  Prussian  generals,  and  the  courtiers,  whose  duties 
prevented  them  from  being  heroes,  were  added  to  the  number. 

Herr  von  Giurgenow,  and  his  friend  Captain  Belleville,  were  in- 
vited to  the  ball,  and  were  well  pleased  to  offer  their  homage  to  the 
majesty  of  Prussia.  Count  Ranuzi,  who,  reserved  and  silent  as 
usual,  had  been  wandering  through  the  saloons,  now  joined  them, 
and  they  had  all  withdrawn  to  a  window,  in  order  to  observe  quietly 
and  undisturbed  the  gay  crowd  passing  before  them. 

"Look  you,"  said  Ranxizi,  laughing,  "this  reminds  me  of  the 
frantic  confusion  in  the  anterooms  of  hell,  which  Dante  has  de- 
scribed in  such  masterly  style.  We  all  wear  our  glittering  masks, 
under  which  our  corpses  are  hidden  ;  one  word  from  our  master  and 
this  drapery  would  fall  off,  and  these  grinning  death-heads  be 
brought  to  ruin.  It  depends  solely  upon  the  will  of  Frederick  of 
Prussia  to  speak  this  word.  He  is  our  master,  and  when  he  com- 
mands it,  we  must  lay  aside  our  swords  and  exchange  our  uniforms 
for  the  garments  of  a  malefactor. " 

"He  will  not  dare  to  do  this,"  said  Giurgenow;  "all  Europe 
would  call  him  a  barbarian,  and  make  him  answerable  for  his  in- 
solence. " 

"  First,  all  Europe  must  be  in  a  condition  to  call  him  to  account, " 
said  Ranuzi,  laughing;  "and  that  is  certainly  not  the  case  at 
present,  I  am  sorry  to  say. " 

"You  have  not  heard,  then,"  said  Belleville,  "of  the  glorious 
victory  which  our  great  General  Broglie  has  gained  over  Duke 
Ferdinand  of  Brunswick ;  all  France  is  jubilant  over  this  happy 
event,  and  the  Marquice  de  Pompadour,  or  rather  King  Louis,  has 
made  this  second  Turenne,  our  noble  Broglie,  marshal. " 

"I  know  of  this, "  said  Ranuzi ;  "but  I  know  also  that  the  fortune 
of  battles  is  inconstant,  otherwise  we  would  not  now  be  here. " 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  we  will  not  be  here  long, "  said  Giurgenow, 
impatiently.  "Does  it  not  lie  incur  power  to  go  at  once?  What 
think  you?  Have  we  not  our  swords?  They  have  not  dared  to  take 
them  from  us  !  They  tremble  before  us,  and  honor,  in  our  persons, 
the  nations  we  represent.  Look  at  the  cqmplaisance  and  considera- 
tion with  which  we  are  met  on  all  sides.  The  King  of  Prussia  fears 
his  powerful  enemies,  and  does  all  in  his  power  to  conciliate  then^. 


306        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Suppose  that  to-night,  as  soon  as  the  royal  family  are  assembled,  we 
draw  oiir  swords  and  take  them  all  prisoners  ;  we  have  overpowering 
numbers,  and  I  think  it  would  be  an  easy  victory.  We  could  make 
a  fortress  of  this  palace,  and  defend  oureelves  ;  they  would  not  dare 
to  make  a  violent  attack,  jis  the  queen  and  princesses  would  be  in 
our  ]X)wer.     What  think  you  of  this  plan,  Count  Ranuzi?" 

Ranuzi  met  the  sharp  and  piercing  glance  of  the  Russian  with 
cool  composure. 

"I  think  it  bold,  but  impossible.  We  could  not  maintain  our 
position,  one  hour.  The  garrison  of  Berlin  would  overcome  us. 
We  have  no  thousands  of  prisoners  in  the  casements  here,  as  in 
Kiistrin,  to  aid  us  in  such  an  attempt." 

"  The  count  is  right, "  said  Belleville,  gayly  ;  "  such  a  grandiose 
and  warlike  conspiracy  would  amount  to  nothing.  We  must  re- 
venge ourselves  in  another  way  for  the  tedious  ennui  we  are  made 
to  endure  here,  and  my  friends  and  myself  are  resolved  to  do  so. 
We  will  no  longer  submit  to  the  shackles  of  etiquette,  which  are 
laid  upon  us  ;  we  will  be  free  from  the  wearisome  constraint  which 
hems  us  in  on  every  side.  These  proud  ladies  wish  us  to  believe 
that  they  are  modest  and  virtuous,  because  they  are  stifif  and  cere- 
monious. They  make  a  grimace  at  every  equivoque.  We  will  prove 
to  them  that  we  are  not  blinded  by  this  outward  seeming,  and  not 
disposed  to  lie  like  Dutchmen,  languishing  at  the  feet  of  our  inex- 
orable fair  ones.  Our  brave  brothers  have  conquered  the  Prussians 
at  Hochkirch  and  at  Bergen ;  we  cannot  stand  side  by  side  with 
them  in  the  field,  but  here,  at  least,  we  can  humble  the  Prussian 
women  !" 

"I  can  well  believe,"  whispered  Giurgenow,  "that  you  would  be 
pleased  to  humble  the  beautiful  Fraulein  von  Marshal?" 

"Ah,  my  friend, "  said  Ranuzi,  laughing,  "you  touch  the  wound 
of  our  poor  friend.  You  do  not  seem  to  know  that  the  beautiful 
Marshal  is  responsible  for  the  scorn  and  rage  of  Count  Belleville. 
She  is  indeed  a  haughty  and  presumptuous  beauty ;  she  not  only 
dared  to  reject  the  love  of  the  fascinating  count,  but  she  showed 
him  the  door  ;  and  when  afterward  he  ventured  to  send  her  a  pas- 
sionate and  tender  billet-doux,  she  informed  him,  through  her 
servant,  that  she  would  give  the  letter  to  her  chambermaid,  for 
whom,  without  doubt,  it  was  intended." 

"  Eh  bien,  what  do  you  say  to  this  insolence  ?"  cried  the  enraged 
Frenchman.  "  But  she  shall  do  penance  for  it.  I  have  already  made 
the  necessary  arrangements  with  my  friends.  Tliis  is  not  simply  a 
personal  affair,  it  touches  the  general  honor.  The  whole  French 
army,  all  France,  is  insulted  in  my  person.  It  is  necessary  we 
^hQVlld  bav?  s^tisfiKJtiop,  sot  onljr  from  this  presumptuous  lady, 


A  COURT  DAY  IN  feERLlK.  307 

but  from  all  the  ladies  of  the  court !  We  will  liave  our  revenge  this 
evening  !  We  will  show  to  these  dull  dames  what  we  think  of  their 
prudery.  And  the  queen  shall  see  that  we  are  not  at  all  inclined  to 
bow  down  to  her  stiff  ceremonies.  She  is,  in  our  eyes,  not  a  queen 
— simply  the  wife  of  an  enemy  ovfer  whom  we  will  soon  triumph 
gloriously. " 

"I  counsel  you,  however,  to  wait  till  the  hour  of  triumph  for 
your  revenge,"  said  Ranuzi.  "Your  intentions  may  lead  to  the 
worst  consequences  for  us  all.  The  great  Frederick  will  never  be  a 
harmless  adversary  till  he  is  dead,  and  we  would  all  be  ignomini- 
ously  punished  for  any  contempt  shown  the  queen.  You  have  a 
personal  affair  with  Fraulein  Marshal ;  well,  then,  you  must  make 
her  personally  responsible ;  but  do  not  involve  us  all  in  your  diffi- 
culties. It  would  be  an  easy  thing  to  forfeit  even  this  appeai-auce 
of  freedom. " 

"You  are  right, "  said  Giurgeaow  ;  "  we  might  be  banished  from 
Berlin,  and  that  would  be  a  bitter  punishment  for  us  all. " 

"  But  look  1  the  doors  are  being  thrown  open,  and  the  queen  and 
court  will  appear ;  you  will  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  your  cruel 
fair  one, "  whispered  Ranuzi  to  the  Frenchman. 

"  I  assure  you  she  shall  repent  of  her  cruelty  to-night, "  said  Belle- 
ville, gnashing  his  teeth.  Exchanging  a  significant  glance  with 
several  French  officers,  who  were  standing  not  far  off,  he  advanced 
into  the  saloon  to  the  outer  circle,  which  was  formed  on  both  sides, 
and  through  which  the  queen  and  court  must  pasa 

Now  the  gi-and  master  of  ceremonies  appeared  on  the  threshold, 
with  his  golden  staff.  Behind  him  the  queen  and  the  Princess 
Amelia  entered  the  room  ;  both  appeared  in  all  the  pomp  and  splen- 
dor of  their  rank.  A  small  diamond-cro\vn  glittered  in  the  blonde 
hair  of  the  queen,  a  magnificent  necklace  of  diamonds  and  emeralds 
was  clasped  around  her  dazzlingly  white  and  beautifully  formed 
tliroat. 

Bielfeld  had  once  declared  that  this  necklace  could  purchase  a 
-k'ngdora.  A  white  robe  worked  with  silver  and  a  dark-red  velvet 
shawl  trimmed  with  ermine  fell  in  graceful  folds  around  the  noble 
and  graceful  figure  of  the  queen,  whose  bowed  head,  and  quiet, 
modest  bearing  contrasted  strangely  with  the  luxuiy  and  splendor 
which  suiTounded  her. 

Another  striking  contrast  to  the  queen  was  offered  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Princess  Amelia.  Like  her  royal  sister,  she  appeared  in 
complete  toilet,  adorned  with  all  her  jewels — her  arms,  her  throat, 
her  hair,  and  her  hands  flashed  with  diamonds.  The  festoons  of 
her  robe  of  silver  gauze  were  fastened  up  with  diamond  buttons, 
and  beneath  appeared  a  green  robe  embroidered  with  silver.    The 


308       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  SIS  FAMILY. 

princess  knew  full  well  that  all  this  splendor  of  toilet,  all  these  flash- 
ing gems,  would  bring  into  contemptuous  notice  her  shai-p,  angular 
figure,  and  her  poor  deformed  visage  ;  she  knew  that  the  eyes  of  all 
would  be  fixed  upon  her  in  derision,  that  her  appearance  alone 
would  be  greetd  as  a  cherished  source  of  amusement,  and  as  soon  as 
her  back  was  turned  the  whole  court  would  laugh  merrily.  She 
assumed,  as  usual,  a  cold  contemptuous  bearing ;  she  met  mockery 
with  mockery,  and  revenged  herself  by  sharp  wit  and  cutting  irony 
for  the  derisive  glances  which  plainly  spoke  what  the  lips  dared 
not  utter.  She  no  sooner  entered  the  saloon  than  she  began  to  greet 
her  acquaintances  ;  every  word  contained  a  poisonous  sting,  which 
inflicted  a  grievous  wound.  When  she  read  in  the  faces  of  her  vic- 
tims that  her  sharp  arrows  had  entered  the  quivering  flesh,  a  malicious 
fire  sparkled  in  her  eyes,  and  a  bitter  smile  played  upon  her  lips. 

Behind  the  queen  and  Princess  Amelia  appeared  the  Princess 
Heniy.  She  was  also  superbly  dressed,  but  those  who  looked  upon 
her  thought  not  of  her  toilet ;  they  were  refreshed,  enraptured  by 
her  adorable  beauty — by  the  goodness  and  purity  written  on  her  rosy 
cheek.  To-day,  however,  the  eyes  of  the  princesses  were  less  clear 
and  dazzling  than  usual — a  gleam  of  sadness  shadowed  her  fair  brow, 
and  her  coral  lips  ti-embled  lightly  as  if  in  pain.  Perhaps  it  was 
tlie  remembrance  of  the  beautiful  and  happy  days,  past  and  gone 
like  a  dream,  which  made  the  lonely  present  seem  so  bitter.  Absent- 
minded  and  thoughtful,  she  stepped  forward  without  looking  to  the 
right  or  left,  regardless  of  the  flashing  orders  and  stars,  of  the  liand- 
some  officers  and  courtly  circle  bowing  profoundly  before  her  as  she 
passed  on. 

Tlie  court  had  now  passed ;  the  bowed  heads  were  raised,  and 
now  the  young  French  officers  cast  impertinent,  almost  challenging 
glances,  at  the  ladies  of  the  queen  and  the  princesses,  who  drew  near 
and  bestowed  here  and  there  stolen  smiles  and  light  greetings  upon 
their  admirers. 

Fraulein  Marshal  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  that  the  insolent  eyes 
of  these  haughty  Frenchmen  were  fixed  upon  her.  Proudly  erect 
she  advanced  ;  her  large  blue  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  princess ; 
she  gave  neither  glance  nor  smile  to  any  one  ;  her  noble  and  beauti- 
ful countenance  had  a  stem,  resolved  expression — her  lips  were 
pouting,  and  her  usually  soft  eyes  told  tales  of  an  angry  soul.  There 
was  something  Juno-like  in  her  appearance — she  was  lovely  to  be- 
hold, but  cold  and  stern  in  her  beauty. 

As  she  passed  by  Count  Belleville,  he  exclaimed  with  a  sigh  to 
his  neighbor:  "Ah,  look  at  this  majestic  Qalatea,  this  beautiful 
marble  statue,  which  can  only  be  awaked  to  life  by  kisses." 

Fraulein  Marshal  trembled  slightly  ;  a  crimson  blush  suffused  hei 


A  COURT  DAY  IN  BERLIN,  30d 

face,  her  shoulders,  and  even  her  back  ;  but  she  did  not  hesitate  or 
turn.  She  moved  on  slowly,  though  she  heard  the  officers  laughing 
and  whispering — though  she  felt  that  their  presumptuous  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her. 

The  queen  and  princesses  made  the  grande  toumee  through  the 
rooms,  and  then  mingled  with  the  guests  ;  all  formal  etiquette  was 
now  laid  aside,  and  a  gay  and  unembarrassed  conversation  might  be 
canied  on  till  the  beginning  of  the  concert.  This  seemed  to  de- 
generate, on  the  part  of  the  French  officers,  to  an  indiscreet,  fren- 
zied levity.  They  laughed  and  talked  boisterously — they  walked 
arm  in  arm  before  the  ladies,  and  remarked  upon  them  so  boldly, 
that  crimson  blushes,  or  frightened  pallor,  was  the  result.  Even 
the  queen  remarked  the  strange  and  unaccountable  excitement  of 
her  guests,  and  to  put  an  end  to  it,  she  entered  the  concert-room 
and  ordered  the  music  to  commence.  Even  this  had  no  effect.  Tlie 
royal  capello  played  an  overture  composed  by  the  king,  with  mas- 
terly precision — the  singers  emulated  them  in  an  Italian  aria— but 
all  this  did  not  silence  the  noisy  conversation  of  the  Frenchmen. 
They  laughed  and  chatted  without  restraint ;  and  neither  the  amazed 
glances  of  the  princesses  nor  the  signs  of  the  graud-master  of  cere- 
monies, made  the  slightest  impression  upon  them. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  slight  pause,  and  the  Princess  Amelia  rose 
up  from  her  seat  and  beckoned  with  her  fan  to  Baron  Pollnitz. 
In  a  loud  and  angry  voice,  she  said  :  "Baron  Pollnitz,  I  insist  upon 
your  forcing  these  shrieking  popinjays  of  the  Marquise  de  Pompa- 
dour to  silence.  We  cannot  hear  the  music  for  their  loud  chatter- 
ing. Tlie  like  birds  may  pass  very  well  in  the  gallant  boudoir  of  a 
certain  marquise,  but  not  in  a  royal  palace  of  Berlin. " 

Pollnitz  shrank  back  in  alarm,  and  fixed  an  imploring  look  upon 
the  princess.  Amongst  the  French  officers  arose  an  angry  murmur, 
swelling  louder  and  louder,  more  and  more  threatening,  and  com- 
pletely drowning  the  music  which  was  just  recommencing. 

The  queen  bowed  down  to  the  princess.  "I  pray  you,  sister," 
said  she,  in  alow  voice,  "remember  that  we  are  poor,  unprotected 
women,  and  not  in  a  condition  to  defend  ourselves.  Let  us  appear 
not  to  remark  this  unmannerly  conduct,  and  let  us  remember  that 
the  king  has  made  it  our  duty  to  receive  the  French  officers  with 
marked  attention. " 

"You,  sister,  are  simply  a  slave  to  the  commands  of  the  king. 
He  is  more  truly  your  master  than  your  husband, "  said  the  princess, 
angi-ily. 

The  queen  smiled  sweetly.  "  You  are  right ;  I  am  his  slave,  and 
my  soul  has  chosen  him  for  its  lord.  Blame  me  not,  then,  for  my 
obedience. " 


310       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Do  you  intend  to  allow  the  arrogant  presumption  of  these 
haughty  Frenchmen  to  go  unpunished?" 

"I  will  take  pains  not  to  observe  it, "  said  the  queen,  turning  her 
attention  again  to  the  music.  During  all  this  time,  Count  Belle- 
ville stood  behind  Fraulein  Marshal.  While  the  concert  was  going 
on,  he  bowed  over  her  and  spoke  long  and  impressively.  Fraulein 
Marshal  did  not  reply ;  neither  his  ardent  love-assurances,  nor  his 
glowing  reproaches,  nor  his  passionate  entreaties,  nor  his  bold  and 
offenstve  insolence,  could  draw  from  her  one  word,  one  look. 

When  the  concert  was  over,  and  they  were  about  to  return  to  the 
saloon  where,  until  supper,  they  could  dance  and  amuse  themselves, 
the  young  maiden  turned  with  calm  composure  and  indifference  to 
Count  Belleville.  "  Sir,  I  forbid  you  to  molest  me  with  your  pres- 
ence, and  I  counsel  you  no  longer  to  offend  my  ears  with  these  in- 
decent romances,  which  you  have  no  doubt  learned  upon  the  streets 
of  Paris.  But  if,  believing  that  I  am  vmprotected,  you  still  dare  to 
insult  me,  I  Inform  you  that  my  father  has  this  moment  arrived, 
and  will  certainly  relieve  me  from  your  disagreeable  and  trouble- 
some society."  She  spoke  aloud,  and  not  only  Belleville,  but  the 
group  of  French  oflicers  who  stood  behind  him,  heard  every  word. 
She  passed  by  them  with  calm  indifference  and  joined  a  large, 
elderly  ofBcer,  who  was  leaning  against  a  pillar,  and  who  stretched 
out  his  hand  smilingly  toward  her. 

"  Father, "  she  said,  "  Grod  himself  put  it  in  your  heart  to  come  to 
Berlin  this  day.  You  are  by  my  side,  and  I  have  nothing  to  fear. 
I  know  you  can  protect  me. " 

In  the  mean  time,  the  musicians  commenced  to  play  the  grave 
and  at  the  same  time  coquettish  minuet,  and  the  officers  drew  near 
the  ladies  to  lead  them  to  the  dance.  This  was  done,  however,  in 
so  bold  and  unconstrained  a  manner,  with  such  manifest  noncha- 
lance, the  request  was  made  with  such  levity,  the  words  were  so 
little  respectful,  that  the  ladies  drew  back  frightened. 

Princess  Amelia  called  Fraulein  Marshal  to  her  side.  She  took 
her  hand  with  a  kindly  smile. 

"  My  child, "  she  said,  "  I  rejoice  that  you  have  the  courage  to 
defy  these  shameless  coxcombs.  60  on,  and  count  upon  my  protec^ 
tion.     Why  are  you  not  dancing?" 

"  Because  no  one  has  asked  me. " 

At  this  moment  an  oflScer  drew  near  with  diligent  haste,  appar- 
ently to  lead  her  to  the  dance.  While  in  the  act  of  offering  his 
hand  to  her  he  made  a  sudden  movement,  as  if  he  had  just  recog- 
nized the  lady,  turned  his  back,  and  withdrew  without  a  word  of 
apology. 

The  princess  wa«  enraged.     "I  promise  you  they  shall  be  pun- 


IN  THE  WINDOW-NICHE.  ^  311 

ished  for  this  presumption."  She  turned  to  Baron  Marshal,  who 
stood  behind  his  daughter :  "  Baron, "  said  she,  **  if  this  leads  to  a 
duel,  I  will  be  your  second !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  THE  WINDOW-NICHE. 

While  these  events  were  occurring  in  the  dancing-room,  and  the 
queen  was  seated  at  the  card-table,  the  Princess  Wilhelmina,  wife 
of  Prince  Henry,  stood  in  the  window-niche  of  the  ball-room  and 
conversed  with  Count  Kalkreuth,  the  friend  and  adjutant  of  her 
husband.  The  count  had  been  sent  home  amongst  the  wounded, 
but  he  was  now  restored  and  about  to  return  to  the  camp.  Tliey 
spoke  quickly  and  impressively  together,  but  the  music  drowned 
their  words  and  made  them  indistinct  to  all  othei's.  Wliat  said 
they  to  each  other?  Seemingly  petty  and  indifferent  things.  They 
had,  perhaps,  a  deeper,  secret  meaning,  for  the  countenance  of  the 
princess  and  that  of  the  count  were  grave,  and  the  sweet  smile  had 
vanished  from  the  charming  face  of  the  princess.  They  spoke  of 
unimportant  things,  perhaps,  because  they  had  not  the  courage  for 
the  great  word  which  must  be  spoken— the  word  farewell ! 

"Your  royal  highness  has  then  no  further  commission  to  give  me 
for  the  prince?"  said  the  count,  after  a  pause. 

"No,"  said  the  princess;  "I  wrote  to  him  yesterday  by  the 
courier.  Describe  the  ball  to  him,  and  tell  him  how  we  are,  and 
how  you  left  me. " 

"I  must  tell  him,  then,  that  your  highness  is  perfectly  gay, 
entirely  happy,  and  glowing  with  health  and  beauty,"  said  the 
count.  These  were  simple  and  suitable  words,  but  they  were  spoken 
in  a  hard  and  bitter  tone. 

The  princess  fixed  her  large  soft  eyes  with  an  almost  pleading 
expression  upon  the  count ;  then  with  a  quick  movement  she  took  a 
wreath  of  white  roses,  which  she  wore  in  her  bosom,  and  held  them 
toward  him.  "As  a  proof  that  I  am  gay  and  happy,"  said  she, 
"  take  these  flowers  to  my  husband,  and  tell  him  I  adorned  myself 
with  them  in  honor  of  his  fite. " 

The  count  pressed  his  lips  convulsively  together  and  looked 
angrily  upon  the  princess,  but  he  did  not  raise  his  hand  to  take  the 
flowers — did  not  appear  to  see  that  she  held  them  toward  him. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  Princess  Wilhelmina,  "you  do  not  take  the 
flowers?" 

"No,"  said  he,  passionately,  "I  will  not  take  them." 


Bin       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  princess  looked  anxiously  around  ;  she  feared  some  one  might 
have  heard  this  stormy  "  No. "  She  soon  convinced  herself  that  there 
was  no  listener  nearer  than  her  maid  of  honor ;  Fraulein  Mai-shal 
was  still  near  the  Princess  Amelia,  and  she  was  somewhat  isolated 
by  etiquette  ;  she  saw,  therefore,  that  she  dared  carry  on  this  con- 
versation. 

"Why  will  you  not  take  my  flowers?"  she  said,  proudly. 

The  count  drew  nearer.  "I  will  tell  you,  princess,"  said  he — "I 
will  tell  you,  if  this  passionate  pain  now  burning  in  my  breast  does 
not  slay  me.  I  will  not  take  your  flowers,  because  I  will  not  be  a 
messenger  of  love  between  you  and  the  prince ;  because  I  cannot 
accept  the  shame  and  degradation  which  such  an  ofiice  would  lay 
upon  me.  Princess  you  have  forgotten,  but  I  remember  there  was 
a  wondrous  time  in  which  I,  and  not  the  prince,  was  favored  with 
a  like  precious  gift.  At  that  time  you  allowed  me  to  hope  that  this 
glowing,  inextinguishable  feeling  which  filled  my  heart,  my  soul, 
found  an  echo  in  your  breast ;  that  at  least  you  would  not  condemn 
me  to  die  unheard,  misunderstood. " 

"  I  knew  not  at  that  time  that  my  husband  loved  me, "  murmured 
the  princess ;  "  I  thought  I  was  free  and  justified  in  giving  that 
heart  which  no  one  claimed  to  whom  I  would." 

"You  had  no  sooner  learned  that  the  prince  loved  you  than  you 
turned  from  me,  proud  and  cold, "  said  the  count,  bitterly  ;  "  relent- 
lessly, without  mercy,  without  pity,  you  trampled  my  heart  under 
your  feet,  and  not  a  glance,  not  a  word  showed  me  that  you  had  any 
remembrance  of  the  past.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  suffered.  You 
have  a  cold  heart,  it  will  make  you  happy  to  hear  of  my  anguish.  I 
loved  you  so  madly  I  almost  hated  you  ;  in  the  madness  of  my  pas- 
sion I  ciirsed  you.  I  thanked  God  for  the  war,  which  forced  me  to 
that  for  which  I  had  never  found  the  moral  strength  to  leave  you. 
Yes,  I  was  grateful  when  the  war  called  me  to  the  field — I  hoped  to 
die.  I  did  not  wish  to  dishonor  my  name  by  suicide.  I  was  reck- 
lessly brave,  because  I  despised  life— I  rushed  madly  into  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy,  seeking  death  at  their  hands,  but  God's  blessed  min- 
ister disdained  me  even  as  you  had  done.  I  was  borne  alive  from 
the  battle-field  and  brought  to  Berlin  to  be  nursed  and  kindly  cared 
for.  No  one  knew  that  here  I  received  daily  new  and  bitter  wounds. 
You  were  always  cruel,  cruel  even  to  the  last  moment ;  you  saw  my 
sufferings,  but  you  were  inexorable.  Oh,  princess,  it  would  have 
been  better  to  refuse  me  entrance,  to  banish  me  from  your  presence, 
than  to  make  my  heart  torpid  under  the  influence  of  your  cold 
glance,  your  polished  speech,  which  ever  allured  me  and  yet  kept 
me  at  a  distance.  You  have  played  a  cruel  game  with  me,  princess, 
you  mock  me  to  the  last.     Shall  I  be  your  messenger  to  the  prince? 


IN  THE  WINDOW  NICHE.  313 

You  know  well  that  I  would  give  my  heart's  blood  for  one  of  those 
sweet  flowers,  and  you  send  them  by  me  to  another.  My  humility, 
my  subjection  is  at  an  end  ;  you  have  sinned  against  me  as  a  woman, 
and  I  have  therefore  the  right  to  accuse  you  as  a  man.  I  will  not 
take  these  flowers  I  I  will  not  give  them  to  the  prince  !  And  now 
I  have  finished — I  beg  you  to  dismiss  me. " 

The  princess  had  listened  tremblingly ;  her  face  became  ever 
paler — completely  exhausted,  she  leaned  against  the  wall. 

"  Before  you  go, "  whispered  she,  "  listen  to  a  few  words  ;  it  may 
be  that  the  death  you  seek  may  be  found  on  the  battle-field — this 
may  be  our  last  interview  in  this  world  ;  in  such  a  moment  we  dare 
speak  the  truth  to  each  other ;  from  the  souls  which  have  been 
closely  veiled,  may  cloud  and  darkness  be  for  one  moment  lifted. 
What  I  now  say  to  you  shall  go  as  a  sacred  secret  with  you  to  the 
grave,  if  you  fall ;  but  if  God  hears  my  prayer,  and  you  return,  I 
command  you  to  forget  it,  never  to  remind  me  of  it.  You  say  I 
have  a  cold  heart.  Alas !  I  only  choked  the  flame  which  raged 
within  me ;  I  would  have  my  honor  and  my  duty  burned  to  ashes. 
You  say  that  my  eyes  are  never  clouded,  that  they  shed  no  tears. 
Ah  1  believe  me,  I  have  wept  inwardly,  and  the  silent,  unseen  tears 
the  heart  weeps  are  bitterer  than  all  others.  You  reproach  me  for 
having  received  you  when  you  returned  here  sick  and  wounded, 
and  for  not  having  closed  ray  doors  against  you.  I  know  well  that 
was  my  duty,  and  a  thousand  times  I  have  prayed  to  God  on  my 
knees  for  strength  to  do  this,  but  He  did  not  hear  me  or  He  had  no 
mercy.  I  could  not  send  you  off ;  had  my  lips  spoken  the  fearful 
words,  the  shriek  of  my  heart  would  have  called  you  back.  My  lips 
had  strength  to  refuse  an  answer  to  the  question  which  I  read  in 
your  face,  in  your  deep  dejection,  but  my  heart  answered  you  in 
silence  and  tears.  Like  you,  I  could  not  forget — like  you  I  remem- 
bered the  bounteous  sweet  past.  Now  you  know  all — go !  As  you 
will  not  take  these  flowers  to  the  prince,  they  are  yours,  were  in- 
tended for  you  ;  I  have  baptized  them  with  my  tears.     Farewell !" 

She  gave  him  the  flowers,  and  without  looking  toward  him, 
without  giving  him  time  to  answer,  she  stepped  forward  and  called 
her  chamberlain. 

"  C!ount  Saldow,  be  kind  enough  to  accompany  Count  Kalkreuth, 
and  give  him  the  books  and  papers  my  husband  has  ordered. " 

Wilhelmina  passed  on  proudly,  calmly,  with  a  smile  on  her  lips, 
but  no  one  knew  what  it  cost  her  poor  heart.  She  did  not  look  back. 
Kalkreuth  would  have  given  years  to  take  leave  once  more  of  the 
lovely  face,  to  ask  pardon  for  the  hard,  rude  words  he  had  dared  to 
say.  The  princess  had  still  the  bashful  timidity  of  virtue  ;  after  the 
confession  she  had  made  she  dared  not  look  upon  him.  The  count 
21 


314       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

controlled  himself ;  he  followed  Saldow.  He  was  bewildered,  rap- 
turously giddy.  As  he  left  the  castle  and  entered  his  carriage  he 
looked  up  at  the  window  and  said  :  "  I  will  not  die  I  -I  will  return  !" 
— then  pressed  the  bouquet  to  his  lips  and  sank  back  in  the  carriage. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  NUTSHELLS  BEHIND  THE  FAUTEUH.  OF  THE  QUEEN. 

Princess  Wilhelmina,  as  we  have  said,  did  not  look  back ;  she 
stepped  silently  through  the  ball-room,  and  approached  the  Princess 
Amelia.  She  stood  for  a  moment  behind  a  couple  who  were  dancing 
the  Francaise.  The  French  oflScers  had  just  taught  this  dance  to  the 
Prussian  ladies  as  the  newest  Parisian  mode. 

It  was  a  graceful  and  coquettish  dance,  approaching  and  avoid- 
ing ;  the  ladies  stood  opposite  their  cavaliers,  and  advanced  with 
smiling  grace,  then  appeared  to  fly  from  them  in  mocking  haste. 
They  were  pursued  in  artistic  tours  by  their  cavaliers ;  at  the  end 
of  the  dance  their  hands  were  clasped  in  each  other's,  and  they 
danced  through  the  room  with  the  graceful  time  and  step  of  the 
minuet. 

Princess  "Wilhelmina  stood  silent  and  imobservant ;  she  knew  not 
the  dance  was  ended ;  she  knew  not  that  the  music  was  silenced. 
A  softer,  sweeter,  dearer  melody  soimded  in  her  ears  ;  she  heard  the 
echo  of  that  voice  which  had  spoken  scornfully,  despairingly,  and 
yet  love  had  been  the  sweet  theme. 

The  sudden  stillness  waked  her  from  her  dream  and  she  stepped 
forward.  The  general  silence  was  interrupted  by  the  well-known 
coarse,  stern  voice  of  the  Princess  Amelia. 

"  Does  this  dance  please  you,  Baron  Marshal  ?  Tlie  French  officers 
have  taught  it  to  our  ladies  as  a  return  for  the  dance  which  our 
brave  Prus-sian  soldiers  taught  the  French  at  Rossbach  ;  at  Rossbach, 
however,  they  danced  to  a  quicker,  faster  tetnjx).  These  French- 
men are  now  calling  out,  '  En  avant !  '  but  at  Rossbach,  I  am  told, 
*  En  arriire  ! '  wa.s  the  word  of  command. " 

A  death-like  silence  followed  these  sarcastic  words  of  the  prin 
cess,  and  throughout  the  room  her  mocking,  derisive  laugh  which 
followed  these  words  was  distinctly  heard.  She  rose,  and  leaning 
upon  the  arm  of  Baron  Marshal,  advanced  to  meet  the  Princess 
Wilhelmina,  and  cast  a  fierce  glance  at  the  officers,  who  were  assem- 
bled in  groups  and  talking  in  low  tones  but  earnestly  with  each 
other. 

Suddenly  Belleville,   leaning  on  another  officer,  advanced  from 


NUTSHELLS  BEHIND  THE  FAUTEUIL  OF  THE  QUEEN.    316 

one  of  these  groups ;  they  walked  backward  and  forward,  laughing 
and  chattering  loudly,  without  regarding  the  presence  of  the  prin- 
cess. They  then  drew  near  the  orchestra,  and  called  out  in  a  jovial 
tone: 

"  Messieurs,  have  the  kindness  to  play  a  Dutch  waltz,  but  in  the 
quick  time  which  the  Austrians  played  at  Hochkirch,  when  they 
drove  the  Prussians  before  them ;  and  in  which  Field  Marshal 
Broglie  played  at  Bergen,  when  he  tramped  upon  the  Prussians  I 
Play  on,  messieurs  !  play  on  !" 

Belleville  then  danced  forward  with  great  levity  of  manner  to 
Fraulein  Marshal,  who  stood  by  the  side  of  her  father;  without 
saluting  her,  he  seized  her  hand. 

"  Come,  ma  toute  belle, "  said  he,  "  you  have  played  the  marble 
statue  long  enough  for  one  day ;  it  is  time  that  you  should  awake  to 
life  in  my  arms.  Come,  then,  and  dance  with  me  your  lascivious 
Dutch  waltz,  which  no  respectable  woman  in  France  would  dare  to 
dance !    Come !  come  I" 

Belleville  tried  to  drag  Fratdein  Marshal  forward,  but  at  the  in- 
stant a  powerful  and  heavy  arm  was  laid  upon  him,  and  his  hand 
was  dashed  off  rudely. 

"  I  have  heard  you  to  the  end, "  said  Baron  Marshal,  calmly ;  "  I 
wished  to  see  a  little  of  the  renowned  gallantry  of  which  the  French- 
man is  so  proud.  It  appears  to  me  that  a  strange  ton  must  now  reign 
in  Paris,  well  suited,  perhaps,  to  the  boudoirs  of  mistresses,  but  not 
fitting  or  acceptable  to  the  ears  of  respectable  women.  I  beg  you 
therefore,  sir,  not  to  assume  this  ton  in  Berlin ;  I  am  resolved  not  to 
endure  it. " 

Belleville  laughed  aloud,  drew  very  near  the  baron,  and  looked 
him  insolently  in  the  face. 

"  Who  are  you,  monsieur,  who  dare  take  the  liberty  of  begging 
me,  who  do  not  know  you,  to  do  or  not  do  any  thing?" 

"I  am  Baron  Marshal,  the  father  of  this  lady  whom  you  have 
dared  to  offend !" 

Belleville  laughed  still  louder  than  before. 

"  Aha !  that  is  a  beautiful  fairy  tale  !  You  who  are  as  hideous  as 
a  baboon,  and  have  borrowed  the  eyes  of  the  cat ! — you  the  father  of 
the  lovely  Galatea  Marshal ! — tell  that  tale  to  other  ears— I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  such  aberrations  of  Nature.  I  repeat  my  question :  who  are 
you?  what  is  your  name?" 

"  I  repeat  to  you,  I  am  Baron  Marshal,  the  father  of  this  lady. " 

"  You  are  more  credulous,  sir,  than  I  am,  if  you  believe  that, " 
said  Belleville,  coarsely. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  less  credulous  than  you  suppose, "  said  Marshal, 
quietly.     "It  would,  for  example,  be  difficult  for  me  to  believe  that 


316        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

you  are  a  nobleman.  I  can  assure  you,  however,  that  I  am  not  only 
noble,  but  a  man  of  honor. " 

Belleville  was  in  the  act  of  giving  a  passionate  answer,  when  the 
doors  of  the  supper-room  were  thrown  open,  and  a  sea  of  light 
irradiated  the  room. 

At  this  moment,  the  queen  and  her  ladies  entered  from  the  card- 
room,  and,  at  her  appearance,  every  word,  every  sound  was  hushed. 
Silentl3%  and  with  a  conciliatory  smile,  the  queen  passed  through 
the  saloon,  and  seated  herself  at  the  table  ;  she  then  gave  the  sign  to 
the  grand-master,  that  her  guests  should  be  seated.  And  now  the 
servants,  in  golden  liveries,  flew  from  side  to  side  bearing  silver 
plates,  containing  the  rare  and  fragrant  viands  which  the  inventive 
head  of  Baron  Pollnitz  had  ordered  for  the  favored  guests  of  her 
majesty  the  Queen  of  Prussia. 

Nothing  is  so  well  calculated  to  quiet  the  perturbed  soul  as  a 
costly  and  well  prepared  feast.  The  liaughty  Frenchmen  soon  for- 
got their  mortified  vanity  and  resentment,  and  were  well  pleased  to 
be  seated  at  the  table  of  the  "  great  Frederick. "  They  ate  and  drank 
right  merrily  in  honor  of  the  bold  and  brave  prince  who  had  sent 
them  here  from  Rossbach  ;  but  if  the  rich  dishes  made  them  forget 
their  mortification,  the  fiery  wine  excited  yet  more  their  presump- 
tuous levity.  They  forgot  that  they  were  the  guests  of  a  queen. 
Louder  and  more  extravagant  was  their  gayety,  more  boisterous, 
more  indiscreet  their  unrestrained  laughter.  In  their  frantic  mer- 
riment they  dared  to  sing  aloud  some  of  the  little  ambiguous, 
equivocal  chansons,  which  belonged  to  the  gamins  of  Paris,  and  at 
which  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour  laughed  till  she  shed  tears  when 
simg  sometimes  by  the  merry  courtiers. 

In  vain  the  grand-master  besought  them,  in  his  most  polished 
manner,  not  to  sing  at  table. 

"  We  have  been  so  long  forced  to  listen  to  the  dull,  screeching 
discord  of  your  singers,  that  we  must  have  some  compensation !" 
said  they.  "Besides,"  said  Belleville,  in  a  loud  voice,  "it  belongs 
now  to  bon  ton  to  sing  at  the  table  ;  and  the  Prussian  court  should 
thank  us  for  introducing  this  new  Parisian  mode. " 

They  sang,  chatted,  laughed,  and  almost  overpowered  the  music 
by  their  boisterous  levity.  Their  presumptuous  revelry  seemed  to 
be  every  moment  on  the  increase.  The  Austrian  and  Russian  offi- 
cers looked  upon  them  with  disgust  and  alai'm,  and  entreated  them 
to  desist ;  but  the  French  officers  were  regardless  of  all  etiquette. 
During  the  dessert,  Belleville  and  some  of  his  friends  arose  and  drew 
near  the  table  at  which  the  queen  and  the  princesses  were  seated ; 
this  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  slightly  separated  from  the 
other  tables.     They  gazed  at  the  princesses  with  insolent  eyes,  and, 


NUTSHELLS  BEHIND  THE  FAUTEUIL  OF  THE  QTTEEN.    317 

placing  themselves  behind  the  chair  of  the  queen,  they  began  to 
crack  nuts  with  their  teeth,  and  throw  the  shells  carelessly  upon 
the  floor,  near  her  majesty. 

The  queen  continued  a  quiet  conversation  with  the  Princess 
Wilhelmina,  and  appeared  wholly  unconscious  of  this  rudeness  and 
vulgarity  ;  but  her  face  was  pallid,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  pray  your  majesty  to  rise  from  the  table  !"  said  the  Princess 
Wilhelmina.  "  Look  at  the  Princess  Amelia ;  her  countenance 
glows  with  anger  ;  there  is  a  tempest  on  her  brow,  and  it  is  about  to 
burst  upon  us. " 

"  You  are  right ;  that  is  the  best  way  to  end  this  tortui-e. '"  She 
rose  from  the  table,  and  gave  a  sign  for  a  general  movement. 

When  the  queen  and  her  suite  had  left  the  room.  Baron  Marshal 
drew  near  Count  Belleville. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  told  you  before  that  I  was  not  sufficiently 
credulous  to  take  you  for  a  nobleman.  Your  conduct  at  the  table 
has  proved  that  I  did  well  to  doubt  you.  Yourself  and  friends  have 
shown  that  you  are  strangers  to  the  duties  of  cavaliers,  and  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  manners  of  good  society. " 

"Ah!"  cried  Belleville,  " this  offence  demands  satisfaction. " 

"  I  am  ready  to  grant  it, "  said  Baron  Marshal ;  "  name  the  time 
and  place  of  meeting. " 

"  You  know  well, "  cried  Belleville,  "  that  I  am  a  prisoner,  and 
have  given  my  word  of  honor  not  to  use  my  sword !" 

"  So  j'ou  were  impertinent  and  shameless,  because  you  knew  you 
were  safe?  You  knew  that,  thanks  to  your  word  of  honor,  you  could 
not  be  chastised !" 

"Sir,"  cried  Belleville,  "you  forget  that  you  speak  not  only  to  a 
nobleman,  but  to  a  soldier. " 

"  Well,  I  know  that  I  speak  to  a  Frenchman,  who  lost  his  powder- 
mantle  and  pomatum -pot  at  Rossbach." 

Belleville,  beside  himself  with  rage,  seized  his  sword,  and  half 
drew  it  from  the  scabbard. 

"  God  be  praised,  I  have  a  sword  with  which  to  revenge  insult !" 
he  cried.  "  I  have  given  my  word  not  to  use  it  on  the  battle-field 
against  the  I*russians,  but  here  we  stand  as  private  adversaries,  man 
to  man,  and  I  challenge  you,  sir — I  challenge  you  to  mortal  combat. 
I  will  have  satisfaction  !  You  have  insulted  me  as  a  nobleman,  as 
a  Frenchman,  and  as  a  soldier.  No  consideration  shall  restrain  me. 
I  dare  not  use  my  sword — well,  then,  we  will  fight  with  pistols.  As 
to  time  and  place,  expect  me  to-morrow,  at  eight  o'clock,  in  the 
Thiei^garden." 

"I  accept  the  conditions,  and  I  will  await  you  with  your  sec- 
onds, "  said  Baron  Marshal. 


318       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"If  the  baron  has  not  chosen  his  seconds,"  said  a  soft  voice  be- 
hind him,  "  I  beg  to  offer  my  services. " 

Baron  Marshal  turned,  and  saw  an  officer  in  the  Austrian  uni- 
form. 

"Count  Ranuzi,"  cried  Belleville,  astonished;  "how,  monsieur! 
you  offer  yourself  as  second  to  my  adversary  ?  I  had  thought  to  ask 
this  service  of  you. " 

"I  suspected  so, "said  Ranuzi,  with  his  accustomed  calm  and 
quiet  manner,  "  therefore  I  anticipated  you.  The  right  is  certainly 
on  the  side  of  Baron  Marshal,  and  in  offering  myself  as  his  second, 
I  do  so  in  the  name  of  all  the  Austrian  ofiicers  who  are  present. 
They  have  all  seen  the  events  of  this  evening  with  painful  indigna- 
tion. Without  doubt  the  world  will  soon  be  acquainted  with  them  ; 
we  wish  to  make  an  open,  public  demonstration  that  we  wholly  dis- 
approve the  conduct  of  the  French  officers.  The  nutshells  thrown 
behind  the  fauteuil  of  the  queen  have  made  us  your  adversaries. 
Count  Belleville. " 

"  That  is  not  the  occasion  of  this  duel,  but  the  affront  offered  me 
by  Baron  Mai"shal, "  cried  Belleville.  "This  being  the  case,  will  you 
still  be  the  second  of  my  opponent?" 

"  I  was  compelled  to  insult  you, "  said  Baron  Marshal,  "  because 
you  would  have  given  me  no  satisfaction  for  the  nutshells  thrown 
behind  the  fauteuil  of  the  queen  ;  but  be  assured  that  I  don't  fight 
with  you  in  order  that  you  may  wash  out  my  offence  with  my  blood, 
but  wholly  and  alone  that  your  blood  may  wash  away  the  nutshells 
from  the  feet  of  the  queen. " 

Baron  Marshal  then  turned  to  Ranuzi.  "I  accept  your  offer,  sir, 
and  rejoice  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  true  nobleman.  Have 
the  goodness  to  meet  the  seconds  of  Count  Belleville,  and  make  all 
necessary  arrangements.  I  will  call  for  you  early  in  the  morning. 
I  only  say  further  that  it  is  useless  to  make  any  attempts  at  recon- 
ciliation— I  shall  not  listen  to  them.  Prussia  and  France  are  at 
war.  My  great  king  has  made  no  peace — I  also  will  not  hear  of  it. 
The  nutshells  lie  behind  the  fauteuil  of  the  queen,  and  only  the  blood 
of  Count  Belleville  can  wash  them  away. " 

He  bowed  to  Ranuzi,  and  joined  his  daughter,  who,  pale  and 
trembling,  awaited  him  in  the  next  room. 

"Oh,  father,"  said  she,  with  tears  gushing  from  her  eyes,  "your 
life  is  in  danger — you  meet  death  on  my  account !" 

"No,  thank  God,  my  child,  your  name  will  not  be  mixed  up  in 
this  affair.  No  one  can  say  that  the  mortified  father  revenged  an 
insult  offered  to  his  daughter.  I  fight  this  duel  not  for  you,  but  be- 
cause of  the  nutshells  behind  the  fauteuil  of  the  queen." 


THE  DUEL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  ol9 

CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  DUEL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

Early  in  the  morning  two  hoi-semen  dashed  down  the  Linden. 
Their  loud  conversation,  their  pert  and  noisy  laughter,  aroused  the 
curiosity  of  the  porters  who  stood  yawning  in  the  house-doors,  and 
the  maids  opened  the  windows  and  gazed  curiously  at  the  two  gal- 
lant French  officers  who  were  taking  such  an  early  ride  to  the 
Thiergarden.  When  the  girls  were  young  and  pretty,  Belleville 
threw  them  a  kiss  as  he  passed  by,  and  commanded  them  to  give  it 
with  his  tenderest  greeting  to  their  fair  mistress. 

"  Happily, "  said  his  companion,  "  these  good  Berliners  do  not  un- 
derstand our  speech  sufficiently  to  inform  their  mistresses  of  this 
last  insolence  of  Coimt  Belleville. " 

"They  do  not,  but  their  mistresses  do,  and  I  cannot  think  that 
they  are  still  sleeping.  No,  I  am  convinced  they  have  risen  early, 
and  are  now  standing  behind  their  maids,  and  watching  us  go  by. 
In  this  street  dwell  those  who  call  themselves  society  ;  they  were  at 
the  castle  yesterday,  and  know  of  this  duel.  I  think  our  good  mar- 
quise will  one  day  reward  me  richly  for  this  duel,  when  I  tell  her  I 
stood  behind  the  queen  and  cracked  nuts  like  a  gamin  in  Paris,  and 
that  I  was  shot  at  because  of  the  nutshells.  She  will  laugh  tears — 
tears  which  I  will  strive  to  convert  into  diamonds  for  myself." 

"You  feel  assured  that  you  will  return  unharmed  from  this 
duel?" 

"  Yes,  I  cannot  doubt  it.  I  always  won  the  prize  at  our  pistol- 
shooting  in  Paris,  and  then,  this  stupid  Dutchman  is,  without 
doubt,  horrified  at  the  thought  of  shooting  at  a  man,  and  not  at  a 
mark.  No,  vraiment,  I  do  not  doubt  but  I  shall  be  victorious,  and  I 
rejoice  in  anticipation  of  that  dejeuner  dinatoire  with  which  my 
friends  will  celebrate  it. " 

"But,"  said  his  second,  "let  us  for  a  moment  suppose  that  you 
are  not  victorious  ;  one  must  ever  be  prepared  in  this  poor  world, 
ruled  by  accident,  for  the  worst  that  can  befall.  In  case  you  fall, 
have  you  no  last  commissions  to  give  me?" 

Count  Belleville  stopped  his  horse  as  they  were  in  the  act  of 
entering  the  garden. 

"You  positively  insist  on  burj'ing  me?  Well,  then,  I  will  make 
my  last  will.  In  case  I  fall  go  in.stantly  to  my  quarters,  open  my 
writing-desk,  and  press  upon  a  small  button  you  will  see  on  the  left 
side  ;  there  you  will  find  letters  and  papers  ;  tie  them  carefully,  and 
e^pd  tbem  in  the  usu^^^l  wajr  to  Couutess  Pernis.    As  to  mj  heritage, 


320        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

you  know  I  have  no  gold ;  I  leave  nothing  but  debts.  IVIy  clothef 
you  can  give  to  my  faithful  servant,  Francois  ;  for  the  last  year  I 
have  paid  him  no  wages.  Now  my  testament  is  made — no,  stop,  I 
had  forgotten  tlie  most  important  item.  Should  the  inconceivable, 
the  unimaginable  happen,  should  this  Dutch  village-devil  slay  me, 
I  make  it  the  duty  of  the  French  officers  here  to  revenge  me  on  the 
haughty  daughter  of  my  adversary,  and  on  all  these  dull  and  prudish 
beauties.  Tliey  must  carry  out  what  I  intended  yesterday.  I  have 
drawn  a  few  sketches  and  added  a  few  notes  ;  make  as  many  copies 
as  are  required,  and  paste  them  on  the  designated  places.  If  I  fall, 
this  must  be  done  the  following  night,  that  my  wandering  soul  may 
find  repose  in  the  sweet  consciousness  of  revenge.  If  my  enemy's 
ball  strikes  nie,  hasten  forward,  and,  before  any  one  dares  lay  his 
hand  upon  me,  take  from  my  breast-pocket  a  paper,  which  you  will 
find  there,  and  conceal  it ;  it  is  the  drawing,  and  it  is  my  legacy  to 
my  comrades.     Swear  to  me  to  do  as  I  have  said. " 

"I  swear!" 

"  And  now,  mon  ami,  let  us  forget  this  stupid  thought  of  death, 
and  look  life  saucily  and  meiTily  in  the  face.  Life  will  not  have 
the  courage  to  break  with  a  brave  son  of  la  belle  France. " 

Belleville  drew  his  bridle  suddenly,  and  sprang  through  the  gate 
into  the  garden;  turning  to  the  right,  they  rode  for  some  time 
under  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  then  through  a  side  allee,  which  led 
to  an  open  place  surrounded  by  lofty  oaks.  At  this  moment  he 
heard  the  roll  of  an  open  can'iage,  and  turning,  he  saluted  gayly 
the  two  gentlemen  who  were  seated  in  it ;  he  checked  his  horse  sud- 
denly in  order  to  ride  by  their  side,  and  provoking  the  beautiful  and 
noble  beast  by  the  rude  use  of  his  spurs,  he  forced  it  into  many 
difficult  and  artistic  evolutions.  Arrived  at  the  place  of  rendezvous, 
he  sprang  lightly  from  the  saddle  and  fastened  his  horse  to  a  tree, 
then  drew  near  Baron  Marshal,  who,  with  Ranuzi,  was  just  descend- 
ing from  the  carriage. 

"  No  man  could  be  more  prudent  than  yourself,  sir, "  said  he, 
laughing,  "to  come  to  a  rendezvous  in  a  carriage;  truly,  that  is  a 
wise  and,  I  think  on  this  occasion,  well-grounded  precaution." 

"A  forethought  which  I  have  exercised  on  your  account,"  said 
the  baron,  gravely.  "You,  sir,  will  require  a  carriage,  and  know- 
ing you,  as  a  stranger,  had  no  carriage  in  Berlin,  I  brought  mine. 
It  shall  be  at  your  service. " 

"  Vraiment !  you  are  too  good  I  I  hope,  however,  not  to  make  use 
of  your  offer. " 

Now,  according  to  custom,  Ranuzi  drew  near  the  baron  to  make, 
a  last  attempt  at  reconciliation.  He  answered  sternly  :  "You  know 
tliftt  J  am  uot  to  b]ame,  find  therefore  wilj  t^ke  no  gt^p  in  this  m^t 


THE  DUEL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  321 

ter.  I  suppose,  Count  Belleville  is  as  little  disposed  as  myself  to 
make  apologies." 

"  I  intend  to  prove  to  you,  sir  baron,  that  I  am  a  nobleman  and 
a  brave  one  ;  and  as  to  the  nuts  which  I  cracked  behind  the  queen, 
my  only  regret  is,  that  they,  like  every  thing  else  in  your  detested 
Berlin,  were  hollow. " 

"No,  sir,  they  were  not  at  all  hollow,"  said  Baron  Marshal, 
drawing  up  the  cock  of  his  pistol ;  "  in  one  of  those  nuts  I  saw  a 
death- worm,  which  will  soon  bore  into  your  flesh. " 

He  bowed  to  Belleville  and  took  the  place  pointy  out  by  his 
second.  The  second  of  Belleville  then  drew  near,  and  led  him  to 
the  outermost  point  of  the  line. 

The  Frenchman  laughed  aloud.  "  How, "  said  he,  "  you  will  take 
me  to  the  end  of  the  world  to  secure  me  from  the  ball  of  my  enemy  ?" 

"Sir,"  said  the  grave  and  solemn  voice  of  the  baron,  "you  will 
still  be  too  near  me. " 

"  Well,  sir  baron,  I  give  you  precedence, "  said  Belleville,  laugh- 
ing, "  though,  I  believe,  I  have  the  right ;  but  age  must  have  the 
precedence — fire,  sir." 

"  No,  young  man, "  said  Marshal,  sadly ;  "  I  will  grant  you  one 
more  glance  at  the  glad  sun  and  the  fresh,  green  earth  ;  you  shall 
fire  first,  and  I  council  you  to  lay  aside  your  levity  ;  let  your  hand 
be  firm  and  your  aim  steady  ;  if  you  fail,  you  are  lost.  I  am  a  good 
shot,  and  I  am  without  mercy. " 

Tliere  was  something  so  convincing,  so  gloomy  in  his  tone,  that 
Belleville  was  involuntarily  affected  by  it.  For  the  first  time  his 
brow  was  clouded,  and  a  slight  pallor  took  possession  of  his  cheek  ; 
but  he  forced  back  this  prophetic  shudder  quickly,  and  raised  his 
pistol  with  a  firm  hand. 

Far  away,  in  the  still  park,  sounded  the  echo  of  his  shot ;  but 
opposite  to  him  stood  his  adversary',  firm  and  calm  as  before,  with 
his  eye  fixed  steadily  upon  him. 

Belleville  threw  his  pistol  to  the  ground,  and  drawing  his  gold 
snuff-box  from  his  vest-pocket  with  his  small  white  hands,  adorned 
with  cuffs  of  lace,  he  played  carelessly  upon  the  lid  ;  then  opened  it, 
and  slowly  and  gracefully  took  a  pinch  of  snuff,  saying,  coolly,  "  I 
await  your  ball. " 

Marshal  raised  his  pistol  and  aimed  directly  at  the  head  of  his 
enemy,  who  looked  him  firmly  in  the  eye.  The  appearance  of  this 
youthful,  fresh,  and  brave  face  softened,  against  his  will,  the  noble 
Bund  magnanimous  soul  of  this  good  man.  He  let  his  arm  fall. 
"  Sir, "  said  he,  "  you  are  so  young,  perliaps  yovu:  life  may  improve. 
I  will  not  kill  you.  But  you  need  for  this  life  a  great,  impressive 
lesson  and  ^  lasting  warning.    I  will  tberefofe  s^oot  you  through 


322        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  right  leg,  just  above  the  knee. "  *  He  raised  the  pistol  quickly, 
and  fired.  As  the  smoke  was  lifted,  Belleville  was  seen  lying  bleed- 
ing on  the  ground.  The  shot  had  gone  right  through  the  knee  and 
broken  the  knee-pan. 

As  his  second  bowed  over  him,  Belleville  whispered,  with  broken 
eyes  and  trembling  lips  :  "  My  legacy  !  do  not  forget  my  legacy  !  I 
believe  I  shall  die ;  this  pain  is  horrible. " 

The  Frenchman  took  the  paper  from  his  pocket  and  concealed  it. 

"I  will  be  avenged,"  said  Belleville,  with  a  convulsive  smile, 
then  sank  into  unconsciousness. 

Belleville  was  placed  in  the  carriage  of  Baron  Marshal  and  car- 
ried to  the  city.  Baron  Marshal  went  immediately  to  the  com- 
mandant of  Berlin,  gave  notice  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  declared 
himself  imder  arrest. 

The  commandant  took  his  hand  kindly.  "The  laws  forbid  duel- 
ling, and  I  must  consider  you  under  arrest  until  I  receive  further 
orders.  That  is  to  say,  house-arrest ;  you  must  give  me  your  word 
not  to  leave  your  house.  I  will  send  a  courier  immediately  to  the 
king.  I  was  in  the  castle  last  night,  and  witness  to  all  the  circum- 
stances which  led  to  this  duel,  witnessed  the  conduct  of  these 
Frenchmen,  and  in  your  place  I  would  have  acted  just  as  you  have 
done. " 

The  French  oflScers  fulfilled  the  vow  they  had  made  to  their 
wounded  comrade ;  they  had  promised  to  revenge  him  on  Fraulein 
Marshal  and  the  other  ladies  of  the  court. 

The  morning  after  the  duel,  on  the  comers  of  all  the  principal 
streets,  placards  were  pasted,  which  were  soon  surrounded  by  crowds 
of  men,  exhibiting  astonishment  and  indignation.  These  placards 
contained  a  register  of  all  the  young  and  beautiful  women  of  the 
court  and  city  ;  to  these  names  were  added  a  frivolous  and  voluptu- 
ous personal  description  of  every  lady,  and  to  this  the  name  of  the 
French  officer  which  each  was  supposed  to  favor,  f 

An  outcry  of  scorn  and  rage  was  heard  throughout  Berlin  ;  every 
one  was  excited  at  the  boundless  shamelessness  of  the  French  officers, 
and  on  this  occasion  the  mass  of  the  people  took  the  part  of  the  rich 
and  the  distinguished,  whom  generally  they  envied  and  despised. 
They  felt  themselves  aggrieved  by  the  contempt  and  ridicule  which 
these  Frenchmen  had  cast  upon  the  daughters  of  Prussians,  and  no 
police  force  was  necessary  to  tear  these  placards  from  the  walls ; 
they  were  torn  off  and  trampled  under  foot,  or  torn  into  a  thousand 
pieces  and  scattered  to  the  winds.  If  a  Frenchman  dared  to  show 
himself  on  the  street,  he  was  received  with  curses  and  threats,  and 

*  The  words  of  Baron  Marshal.— See  Thi6l^ui(, 
tTW«^ault,p.90, 


THE  DUEL  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  323 

the  police  were  obliged  to  forbid  them  to  appear  in  any  public  place, 
as  they  feared  they  would  not  be  able  to  protect  them  from  the  fierce 
indignation  of  tne  people.  The  doors  of  all  the  prominent  houses, 
in  which  heretofore  they  had  received  so  much  attention,  were  now 
closed  against  them.  The  commandant  of  Berlin  had  sent  a  detailed 
accoimt  of  the  conduct  of  the  French  officers  to  the  king,  and  the 
answer  had  been  received. 

Eight  days  after  the  placards  had  been  pasted  up  by  the  French- 
men, exactly  upon  the  same  places  new  placards  were  to  be  found, 
around  which  the  people  were  again  assembled  ;  on  every  face  was 
seen  a  happy  smile,  from  every  lip  was  heard  expressions  of  har- 
mony and  approbation.  This  was  a  greeting  of  the  king  not  only  to 
his  Berliners,  but  to  Prussia  and  to  the  world ;  he  was  now  "  the 
Great  Frederick,"  and  all  Europe  listened  when  he  spake.  Fred- 
erick's greeting  read  thiis : 

"  It  is  known  to  all  Europe  that  I  have  provided  every  possible 
comfort  to  all  officers  who  are  prisoners  of  war.  Swedes,  French- 
men, Russians,  Austrians  I  have  allowed  to  pass  the  time  of  their 
captivity  at  my  capital.  Many  among  them  have  taken  advantage 
of  the  confidence  reposed  in  them  and  carried  on  a  forbidden  corre- 
spondence ;  they  Have  also,  by  unmannerly  and  presumptuous  con- 
duct, greatly  abused  the  privileges  allowed  them ;  I  therefore  feel 
myself  constrained  to  send  them  to  Spandau,  which  city  must  not 
be  confounded  with  the  fortress  of  the  same  name  at  Spandau  ;  they 
will  be  no  more  resti'icted  than  in  Berlin,  but  they  will  be  more 
closely  watched. 

"  For  this  decision  I  cannot  be  blamed.  The  law  of  nations  and 
the  example  of  my  allied  enemies  justify  me  fully.  The  Austi-ians 
have  not  allowed  any  of  my  officers  who  have  fallen  into  their  hands 
to  go  to  Vienna.  The  Russians  have  sent  their  captives  to  Kasan. 
Ny  enemies  lose  no  opportunity  to  give  a  false  aspect  to  my  acts  ; 
I  have,  therefore,  thought  it  wise  to  make  known  the  causes  which 
lead  me  io  change  my  policy  with  regard  to  the  prisoners  of  war. 

"  Frederick.  " 

Two  of  the  officers,  with  whom  we  are  acquainted,  were  not  in- 
cluded in  this  sentence  of  banishment. 

One  was  Count  Belleville.  On  the  day  that  his  comrades,  de- 
prived of  their  swords,  left  Berlin,  his  corpse  was  carried  through 
the  outer  gate.  The  shot  of  iBaron  Marshal  made  an  amputation 
necessary,  and  death  was  the  consequence.  While  his  friends, 
whose  condemnation  he  had  brought  about,  marched  sadly  to  Span- 
dau, his  body  was  laid  in  the  "  Friedhof . "  ,  To  the  corpse  had  been 
granted  a  favor  denied  to  the  living — his  sword  was  allowed  to  deck 
his  cofiin. 


&U       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  Austrian  oflBcer,  Ranuzi,  because  of  his  wise  and  prudent 
conduct  and  the  powerful  support  he  gave  to  Baron  Marshal,  was 
permitted  to  remain  in  Berlin.  Ranuzi  received  this  permission 
with  triumphant  joy.  As  he  looked  from  his  window  at  the  pris- 
oners marching  toward  Spandau,  he  said  with  a  proud  smile — "  It 
is  written,  'Be  wise  as  a  serpent.'  These  fools  have  not  regarded 
the  words  of  Holy  Writ,  and  therefore  they  are  punished,  while  I 
shall  be  rewarded.  Yes,  my  work  will  succeed !  God  gives  me  a 
visible  blessing.  Patience,  then,  patience !  A  day  will  come  when 
I  will  take  vengeance  on  this  haughty  enemy  of  the  Church.  On 
that  day  tlie  colors  of  the  apostolic  majesty  of  Austria  shall  be 
planted  on  the  fortress  of  Magdeburg !" 


CHAPTER    X. 

(  THE    FIVE    COURIERS. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  August.  The  streets  of 
Berlin  were  quiet  and  empty.  Here  and  there  might  be  seen  a 
workman  with  his  axe  upon  his  shoulder,  or  a  tradesman  stepping 
slowly  to  his  comptoir.  The  upper  circle  of  Berlin  still  slumbered 
and  refreshed  itself  after  the  emotions  and  excitements  of  yesterday. 

Yesterday  had  been  a  day  of  rejoicing  ;  it  had  brought  the  news 
of  the  great  and  glorious  victory  which  the  crown  prince,  Ferdinand 
of  Brunswick,  had  gained  at  Minden,  over  the  French  army  under 
Broglie  and  Contades. 

The  crown  prince  had  ever  remembered  that  great  moment  in  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  when  his  mother  took  leave  of  him  in  the 
presence  of  the  Brunswick  regiments.  Embracing  him  for  the  last 
time,  she  said  :  "  I  forbid  you  to  appear  before  me  till  you  have  per- 
formed deeds  of  valor  worthy  of  your  birth  and  your  allies !"  * 

Her  son,  the  worthy  nephew  of  Frederick  the  Great  had  now 
bought  the  right  to  appear  before  his  mother. 

By  the  victories  of  Gotsfeld  and  Minden  he  had  now  wiped  out 
the  defeat  at  Bergen,  and  the  laurels  which  Brissac  had  won  there 
were  now  withered  and  dead. 

Berlin  had  just  received  this  joyful  news.  After  so  much  sorrow, 
Bomuch  humiliation  and  disappointment,  she  might  now  indulge 
herself  in  a  day  of  festal  joy,  and,  by  public  declarations  and  testi- 
monials, make  known  to  the  world  how  dear  to  her  heart  was  this 
victory  of  her  king  and  his  generals,  and  how  deep  and  warm  was 

the  sympathy  she  felt. 

'Bodman. 


THE  FIVE  COURIERS.  325 

All  work  was  set  aside  in  honor  of  this  great  celebration — the 
people  were  spread  abroad  in  the  meadows  and  woods,  shouting  and 
rejoicing,  playing  and  dancing ;  the  rich  and  the  distinguished 
joined  them  without  ceremony,  to  prove  to  the  world  that  in  such 
great  moments,  all  differences  of  rank  were  forgotten — that  they 
were  all  members  of  one  body— united  in  joy  and  in  sorrow  by  an 
electric  chain. 

So  they  slumbered  on ;  the  streets  were  still  empty,  the  windows 
gtill  closed. 

But  see !  There  comes  a  horseman  through  the  Frankfort  gate, 
dusty  and  breathless ;  his  glowing  face  was  radiant  with  joy  !  As 
he  dashed  through  the  streets  he  waved  a  white  handkerchief  high 
in  the  air,  and  with  a  loud  and  powerful  voice,  cried  out,  "  Victory  ! 
victory !" 

This  one  word  had  a  magic  influence.  The  windows  flew  up, 
the  doors  were  dashed  open,  and  shouting  and  screaming  crowds  of 
men  rushed  after  the  horseman.  At  a  comer  they  surrounded  his 
horse  and  compelled  him  to  stop.  "Who  is  victorious?"  cried  they 
tumultuously. 

"  The  king — the  great  Frederick !  He  has  whipped  the  Russians 
at  Kiinersdorf !" 

A  cry  of  rapture  burst  from  every  lip.  "  The  king  is  victorious  1 
he  has  defeated  the  Russians  !" 

Onward  flew  the  courier  to  the  palace ;  after  him  streamed  the 
mad  people.  "  The  days  of  mourning  are  over — the  blood  of  our  sons 
has  not  been  shed  in  vain,  they  are  the  honored  dead — their  death 
brought  victory  to  the  fatherland ;  they  have  drenched  the  soil  with 
the  blood  of  our  barbarous  enemies.  We  whipped  the  French  at 
Minden,  the  Russians  at  Kiinersdorf,  and  now  we  have  defeated  the 
Austrians  and  won  back  the  trophies  of  their  victory  at  Hochkirch !" 

The  people  surrounded  the  castle  shouting  and  triumphing.  The 
courier  had  entered  to  give  to  the  queen  the  joyful  news.  Soon  the 
royal  messengers  were  flying  into  every  comer  of  the  city  to  sum- 
mon the  ministers  and  oflBcers  of  state  to  the  castle.  On  foot,  on 
horseback,  in  carriages,  they  hastened  on,  and  the  people  received 
them  with  joyful  shouts.  "  The  king  is  victorious ;  the  Russians 
are  defeated !" 

And  now  a  door  opened  on  a  balcony,  and  Minister  Herzberg 
stepped  out.  He  waved  his  hat  joyfully  high  in  the  air.  The  people 
returned  this  greeting  with  a  roar  like  an  exulting  lion.  He  waved 
his  hand,  and  the  lion  ceased  to  roar — there  was  death-like  silence. 
He  then  told  them  that  the  king  had  offered  battle  to  the  Russians, 
yesterday,  not  far  from  Frankfort.  The  Russian  army  was  greatly 
superior  in  numbers ;  they  received  the  Prussians  with  a  fearful, 


326        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

deadly  fire  !  Unrestrainable,  regardless  of  cannon-balls,  or  of  death, 
the  Prussians  rushed  on,  stormed  all  the  strongholds,  and  drove  the 
Russian  militia  with  fearful  slaughter  back  to  the  graveyard  of 
Kiinersdorf.  At  five  o'clock  the  king  sent  off  the  courier  and  the 
victory  was  assured. 

"The  victory  was  assured!"  reechoed  the  mighty  voice  of  the 
people.  With  warm  and  kindly  eyes  they  looked  upon  each  other. 
Proud,  glad,  happy,  men  who  did  not  know  each  other,  who  had 
never  met,  now  felt  that  they  were  brothers,  the  sons  of  one  father- 
land, and  they  clasped  hands,  and  shouted  their  congratulations. 

Suddenly,  at  the  end  of  the  street,  another  horseman  appeared. 
He  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  It  is  a  second  courier,  a  second  mes- 
sage of  our  king  to  his  family  and  his  Berliners. 

The  people  looked  at  him  distrustfully,  anxiously.  What  means 
this  second  courier?    What  news  does  he  bring? 

His  countenance  gay,  his  brow  clear,  with  a  flashing  smile  he 
greets  the  people.  He  brings  news  of  victory — complete,  assured 
victory. 

Like  the  first  courier,  he  dashed  on  to  the  castle,  to  give  his  dis- 
patches to  the  queen  and  the  ministers.  The  people  were  drunk 
with  joy.  The  equipages  of  the  nobles  rolled  by.  Every  one  whose 
rank  gave  him  the  privilege  wished  to  offer  his  personal  congratu- 
lations to  the  queen. 

And  now  in  the  Konigstrasse  was  seen  a  venerable  procession. 
The  magistrates  of  Berlin — in  front  the  burgomasters  with  their 
long  periwigs  and  golden  chains,  behind  them  the  worthy  city 
council — all  hastened  to  the  castle  to  offer  congratulations  in  the 
name  of  the  city. 

The  crowd  drew  back  respectfully  before  the  worthy  city  fathers, 
and  opened  a  path  for  them,  then  fixed  their  eyes  again  upon  the  bal- 
cony where  Minister  Herzberg  again  appeared,  and  called  for  silence. 

He  will  give  us  the  news  of  the  second  coiu-ier.  The  victory  is 
absolute.  The  Russians  completely  defeated.  They  had  retreated 
to  Kiinersdorf.  In  this  village  they  proposed  to  defend  themselves. 
But  the  Pnissians  were  unceasingly  pressing  upon  them.  Seven 
redoubts,  Kirchhof,  Spitzberg,  and  one  hundred  and  eighty -six  can- 
non had  been  taken.  The  enemy  had  suffered  a  monstrous  loss,  and 
was  in  the  greatest  confusion.  The  fate  of  the  day  seemed  conclu- 
sive. This  waa  owing  to  the  heroic  courage  of  the  army,  whom 
neither  the  blazing  heat  of  the  sun  nor  the  imexampled  slaughter 
could  for  a  moment  restrain.  At  six  o'clock,  when  the  king  sent 
off  this  second  courier,  the  enemy  had  retreated  behind  his  last  in- 
trenchmeiits,  and  taken  refuge  at  Qudenberg.  * 


THE  nVE  COURIERS.  327 

A  loud  hurrah  broke  from  the  people  as  Herzberg  finished  and 
left  the  balcony.  Now  there  was  no  room  for  doubt.  The  enemy 
was  overwhelmed  and  had  fled  to  his  last  intrenchment.  Would 
the  king  leave  him  unmolested,  and  would  he  not  still  drive  the 
hated  enemy  further? 

While  groups  of  men  were  assembled  here  and  there,  discussing 
these  weighty  questions,  and  others,  intoxicated,  drunk  with  joy 
at  this  great  victory  over  their  hereditary  enemy,  were  making 
eloquent  addresses  to  the  people,  a  third  courier  appeared  in  sight. 

Breathless  with  expectation  and  anxiety,  they  would  not  give 
him  time  to  reach  the  castle.  They  must — they  would  know  the 
news  he  brings.  There  should  be  no  delay,  no  temporizing,  no 
mysteries.  The  people  were  one  great  family.  Tliey  awaited  the 
message  of  their  father.  They  demanded  news  of  their  distant  sons 
and  brothers. 

The  third  courier  brings  renewed  assurances.  The  Russians  are 
routed.  The  king  will  give  them  no  rest.  He  will  drive  them  from 
their  last  stronghold.  With  his  whole  army,  with  cavalry  and 
militia,  with  all  his  cannon,  he  was  in  the  act  of  storming  Guden- 
berg.     This  is  the  message  of  the  third  courier. 

Tlie  people  are  proud  and  happy.  No  one  thinks  of  going  home. 
In  fact,  they  have  no  home  but  the  streets.  Every  house  would  be 
too  small  for  this  gi-eat  family  which  feels  a  thirst  to  express  its  joy 
and  its  rapture  to  each  other.  And  then  it  was  possible  the  king 
might  send  another  courier.  Who  could  go  home  till  they  knew 
that  the  Russians  were  diiven  from  their  last  stronghold,  that 
Gudenberg  was  drenched  in  Russian  blood  ? 

No  one  doubted  that  this  news  would  come — must  come.  Not. 
the  slightest  fear,  the  least  doubt  troubled  the  proud,  pure  joy  of 
this  hour.  The  victory  was  achieved,  but  it  was  still  charming  to 
hear  it  confirmed  ;  to  receive  these  heavenly  messages.  Every  open 
space  was  filled  with  men.  Each  one  would  see  and  hear  for  him- 
self. No  man  thought  himself  too  distinguished,  too  sick,  too 
weak,  to  stand  for  hours  in  the  burning  sun,  carried  about  involun- 
tarily by  this  fluctuating  wave  of  humanity.  Side  by  side  with  the 
laborer  stood  the  elegant  lady  in  her  silk  robes  ;  near  the  poor  beg- 
gar in  his  ragged  jacket  were  seen  the  high  official  and  the  wealthy 
banker  in  their  rich  dresses. 

More  than  fifty  thousand  men  were  now  assembled  and  waiting 
— waiting  for  what  they  knew  not — for  news — for  a  courier  who 
could  give  the  details.  It  was  not  enough  to  know  that  the  king 
had  conquered;  they  wished  to  know  the  extent  and  the  signifi- 
cance of  this  victory  ;  and  lastly,  they  would  know  the  bloody  offer- 
ing which  this  victoiy  had  cost. 


328       FREDERICK  THE  aREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  dinner-hour  was  passed.  What  cared  this  happy  people  tot 
dinner?  They  hungered  for  no  earthly  food ;  they  thirsted  for  no 
earthly  drink ;  they  were  satisfied  with  the  joy  of  victory.  The 
clock  struck  three.  Yes,  there  comes  a  horseman,  his  bridle  is 
hanging  loose — he  is  covered  with  dust — but  how,  what  means  this? 
His  face  is  pale  as  death ;  his  eyes  are  misty ;  he  looks  around 
shame-faced  and  confused.  No  happy  news  is  written  upon  this 
dark  and  clouded  brow.  What  means  this  messenger  of  death  in 
the  midst  of  joy,  triumph,  and  proud  consciousness  of  victory? 
They  seek  to  hold  him,  to  question  him,  but  he  gives  no  answer. 
He  spui-s  his  wearied  horse  till  he  springs  aloft,  and  the  men  in  rash 
terror  are  crushed  against  each  other ;  but  the  horseman  makes  no 
sign.  Silently  he  dashes  on  through  the  laughing,  chatting  crowd, 
but  wherever  he  passes,  laughter  and  smiles  disappear,  and  speech 
is  silenced. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  angel  of  death  had  touched  his  brow,  and  the 
happy  ones  shuddered  at  his  untimely  presence.  Now  he  has 
reached  the  castle,  he  descends  from  his  horse.  In  breathless 
silence,  pallid,  trembling  they  know  not  why,  those  who  have  seen 
this  dumb  messenger  look  up  shudderingly  to  the  balcony.  At  last, 
after  long  waiting,  the  Minister  Herzberg  appeared  once  more. 

But,  O  God!  what  means  this?  he  is  pale — his  eyes  are  filled 
with  tears.  He  opens  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  strength  has  left  him. 
He  holds  on  to  the  bars  of  the  balcony,  otherwise  he  would  sink. 
At  last  he  collects  himself.  It  is  not  necessaiy  to  ask  for  silence ; 
the  silence  of  the  grave  is  upon  those  torpid  men.  He  speaks !  his 
voice  is  faint  and  weak,  and  trembles — oh,  so  fearfully  !  only  a  few 
in  the  first  rank  can  hear  his  words. 

"  The  battle  is  lost !  The  Russians  have  conquered  !  The  Austri- 
ans  came  to  their  assistance !  Tlie  presence  of  the  Austrians  was 
not  known,  they  had  their  tents  in  holes  in  the  ground  1  As  our 
militia  rushed  upon  the  last  intrenchment  at  Judenberg  and  were 
only  a  hundred  steps  distant,  Loudon  suddenly  advanced  with  his 
fresh  troops,  against  the  worn-out  and  exhausted  victors.  He  re- 
ceived the  Prussians  with  so  murderous  a  fire,  that  their  ranks 
faltered,  wavered,  an^,  at  last,  broke  loose  in  wild  flight,  pursued' 
furiously  by  the  raging  enemy.  The  fortunes  of  the  day  had  turned  ; 
we  lost  the  battle.  But  all  is  not  lost.  The  king  lives !  he  is  slightly 
wounded  ;  three  horses  were  shot  under  him.  He  lives,  and  so  long 
as  he  lives,  there  is  hope.  In  the  far  distance,  in  the  midst  of  the 
terrible  disasters  which  have  befallen  himself  and  his  army,  he 
thinks  of  his  Berliners.  He  sends  you  a  father's  greeting,  and  ex- 
horts every  one  of  you  to  save  his  possessions,  as  far  as  possible. 
Those  who  do  not  feel  safe  in  Berlin,  and  who  fear  the  approaching 


THE  FlVfi  COURIERS.  3^d 

enemy,  the  king  counsels  to  withdraw,  if  possible,  with  their  money, 
to  Magdeburg,  where  the  royal  family  will  take  refuge  this  evening. " 

The  miijister  was  silent,  and  the  people  who  had  listened,  dumb 
with  horror,  now  broke  out  in  wild  cries  of  anguish  and  despair. 
Terror  was  written  in  every  face ;  tears  gushed  from  every  eye. 
Cries  of  unspeakable  agony  burst  from  those  lips,  which,  a  few  mo- 
ments before,  were  eloquent  with  hope  and  gladness. 

As  if  it  were  impossible  to  believe  in  these  misfortunes  without 
further  confirmation,  some  men  called  loudly  for  the  messenger,  and 
the  distant  crowd,  as  if  inspired  with  new  hope,  roared  louder  and 
louder : 

"The  courier!  the  courier!  we  will  ourselves  sp>eak  with  the 
courier !" 

The  demand  was  so  threatening,  so  continuous,  it  must  be  com- 
plied with.  Herzberg  stepped  upon  the  balcony,  and  informed  the 
crowd  that  the  courier  would  at  once  descend  to  the  public  square. 

A  breathless  silence  succeeded ;  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the 
castle-gate,  through  which  the  courier  must  come.  When  he  ap- 
peared, the  crowd  rushed  forward  toward  him  in  mad  haste.  Cries 
of  woe  and  suffering  were  heard.  The  people^  with — mad  with  pain, 
beside  themselves  with  despair,  had  no  longer  any  mercy,  any  pity 
for  each  other.  They  rushed  upon  the  messenger  of  misfortune, 
without  regarding  those  who,  in  the  midst  of  this  wild  tumult,  were 
cast  down,  and  trodden  under  foot. 

The  messenger  began  his  sad  story.  He  repeated  all  that  the 
minister  had  said  ;  he  told  of  the  deadly  strife,  of  the  bloody  havoc, 
of  the  raging  advance  of  the  Austrians,  and  of  the  roar  for  ven- 
geance of  the  reassured  Russians.  He  told  how  the  cannon-balls  of 
the  enemy  had  stricken  down  whole  ranks  of  Prussians  ;  that  more 
than  twenty  thousand  dead  and  wounded  Prussians  lay  upon  the 
battle-field ;  that  all  the  cannon  and  all  the  colors  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

The  people  received  this  news  with  tears,  cries,  and  lamenta- 
tions. The  courier  spoke  also  of  the  king.  He,  himself,  had  be- 
longed to  the  body-guard  of  the  king — had  been  ever  near  him.  He 
had  seen  the  king  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  thickest  shower  of 
balls,  when  his  two  adjutants  fell  at  his  side.  At  last,  a  ball  came 
and  wounded  the  king's  horse — the  Vogel — so  fearfully,  that  the 
brave  steed  fell.  Frederick  mounted  another  horse,  but  remained 
upon  the  same  spot ;  a  second  ball  wounded  this  horse,  and  the  king 
quietly  mounted  that  of  Captain  Gotzen.  At  this  moment,  a  bullet 
struck  the  king  in  the  breast,  but  the  golden  4tui  which  the  king 
carried  iu  liis  pocket,  had  turned  it  aside,  and  thus  saved  his  life. 
In  vain  had  the  generals  and  adjutants  entreated  him  to  leave  this 
28 


330       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

place,  and  think  of  his  personal  safety.  His  answer  was — "We 
must  seek,  at  this  point,  to  win  the  battle.  I  must  do  my  duty  here 
witli  the  rest."* 

Many  voices  cried  out — "Where  is  the  king  now?" 

Tlie  courier  did  not  answer ;  but  the  question  was  so  fiercely,  bo 
stormily  repeated,  that  he  was  compelled  to  go  on. 

"  Tlie  king,  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  and  horror  of  the  flight, 
had  called  him,  and  commanded  him  to  gallop  to  Berlin,  and  bear 
the  fatal  news  to  Minister  Herzberg.  He  had  then  galloped  by  him, 
exactly  against  the  enemy,  as  if  he  wished  their  balls  to  strike  him  ; 
a  little  troop  of  his  most  faithful  soldiers  had  followed  1" 

"The  king  is  lost!  the  king  is  a  prisoner — wovmded — perhaps 
dead  1"  cried  the  teirified  people. 

Suddenly,  the  mad  tumult  was  interrupted  by  loud  shouts  of  joy, 
which  swelled  and  thundered  like  an  avalanche  from  the  other  side 
of  the  square.  A  fifth  courier  had  arrived,  and  brought  the  news  t)f 
the  complete  defeat  of  the  Russians,  and  a  glorious  Prussian  victory. 

Now,  one  of  those  memorable,  wondrous-grand  scenes  took  place, 
which  no  earthly  phantasy  could  contrive  or  prepare,  to  which  only 
Providence  could  give  form  and  color.  As  if  driven  by  the  storm- 
winds  of  every  powerful  earthly  passion,  this  great  sea  of  people 
fluctuated  here  and  there.  At  one  point,  thousands  were  weeping 
over  the  news  which  the  unhappy  messenger  had  brought.  Near 
by,  thousands  were  huzzaing  and  shouting  over  the  joyful  intelli- 
gence brought  by  the  fifth  courier,  while  those  who  had  been  near 
enough  to  the  fourth  courier  to  understand  his  words,  turned  aside 
to  give  the  sad  news  to  those  who  were  afar  off.  Coming  at  the 
same  time  from  the  other  side,  they  were  met  by  a  mighty  mass  of 
men,  who  announced,  with  glad  cries,  the  news  of  victory,  brought 
by  the  fifth  courier.  Here  you  could  see  men,  with  their  arms 
raised  to  heaven,  thanking  God  for  the  hardly-won  victory.  A 
little  farther  on,  pale,  frightened  creatures,  motionless,  bowed  down, 
and  grief- stricken.  Here  were  women,  with  glowing  cheeks  and 
sparkling  eyes,  shouting  over  their  hero  king.  There,  the  people 
wept  and  moaned ;  their  king  had  disappeared,  was  a  prisoner,  or 
dead.  As  at  the  Tower  of  Babel,  the  people  spoke  in  a  thousand 
tongues,  and  no  one  listened  to  another ;  every  one  was  lost — blinded 
by  his  own  passionate  hopes  and  fears. 

At  last  the  two  couriers  were  called  upon  to  come  face  to  face 
and  decide  these  important  questions.  Strong  men  lifted  them  upon 
their  shoulders  and  brought  them  together ;  a  profound  and  fearful 
silence  ensued,  every  man  felt  that  he  stood  upon  the  eve  of  a 
mighty  revelation ;  fifty  thousand  men  were  waiting  breathlessly 
*Tbe  king's  own  words.  —See  Tbi6bault,  p.  914. 


AFTER  THE  BATTLE.  331 

for  news  of  happiness  beyond  compare,  or  of  unspeakable  woe.  The 
conversation  of  the  two  horsemen  standing  upon  the  shoulders  of 
their  townsmen  was  quick  and  laconic. 

"  At  what  hour  did  the  king  send  you  off?"  said  the  fourth  courier 
to  the  fifth. 

"At  six.     The  king  himself  commissioned  me. " 

"Where  stood  our  army  at  that  time?"  said  the  fourth  courier. 

"They  stood  before  the  hollow  ground,  and  the  Russians  had 
withdrawn  to  the  intrenchments  of  Zudenberg ;  we  had  taken  a 
hundred  and  twenty  cannon,  and  many  of  our  soldiers  were  wander- 
ing about  the  battle-field  looking  at  the  batteries  they  had  taken. "  * 

"  Yes, "  said  the  fourth  courier,  sadly,  "  that  was  at  six,  but  at 
seven  we  were  in  full  flight.  Loudon  had  risen  from  the  ground, 
and  the  frightened,  conquered  Russians  had  recovered  themselves. 
You  left  at  six,  I  at  eight ;  I  have  ridden  more  rapidly  than  you. 
Unhappily,  I  am  right,  the  battle  is  lost !" 

"  The  battle  is  lost  I"  howled  the  people ;  "  the  king  is  also  lost ! 
Woe!  woe!" 

At  this  moment  the  royal  equipages  were  seen  making  their  way 
slowly  through  the  crowd,  and  the  advance  guard  were  praying  the 
people  to  open  a  way  for  the  travelling  carriages  to  reach  the  castle. 

These  words  excited  new  alarm.  "  We  are  lost !  Let  us  fly,  let 
us  fly  1  The  court,  the  queen,  and  the  princesses  flee — let  us  save 
ourselves !  Tlie  Russians  will  come  to  Berlin — they  will  annihilate 
us.  We  are  deserted  and  lost,  lost ! — no  one  knows  where  our  king 
is!" 

As  if  driven  by  madness,  the  crowds  rushed  against  each  other, 
like  the  sea  when  it  divides,  and  in  billowy  streams  pours  itself  out 
here  and  there ;  and  the  cry  of  anguish  which  now  rang  out  from 
the  castle  square,  found  its  echo  in  every  street  and  every  house. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AFTER    THE    BATTLE. 

The  cannon  were  silenced,  the  discharges  of  musketry  had  ceased. 
On  the  great  plain  of  Kiinersdorf,  where,  a  few  hours  before,  a 
bloody  battle  had  been  raging,  all  was  quiet.  Could  this  be  called 
repose?  How  cruel  was  the  tranquillity  which  rested  now  upon  this 
fearful  battle-field ! 

It  was  the  peace  of  death — the  stillness  which  the  awful  messen- 
ger of  IJeaven  presses  as  a  sign  and  seal  of  his  love  upon  the  pale 


332       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAIVIILY. 

lips  of  the  dead.  Happy  they  whose  immortal  spirits  were  quickly 
wafted  away  by  the  dread  kiss — they  no  longer  suffer.  Woe  to  those 
who  yet  live,  though  they  belong  to  death,  and  who  lie  surrounded 
by  grinning  corpses !  The  cold  bodies  of  their  comrades  are  the 
pillows  upon  which  they  lay  their  bloody  heads.  The  groans  of  the 
dying  form  the  awful  melody  which  awakes  them  to  consciousness ; 
and  the  starry  sky  of  this  clear,  transparent  summer  night  is  th6 
only  eye  of  love  which  bows  down  to  them  and  looks  upon  them  in 
their  agony. 

Happy  those  whom  the  murderous  sword  and  the  crushing  ball 
carried  off  in  an  instant  to  the  land  of  spirits !  Woe,  woe  to  those 
lying  upon  the  battle-field,  living,  breathing,  conscious  of  their  de- 
feat and  of  their  great  agony  !  Woe  !  woe  !  for  they  hear  the  sound 
of  the  tramping  and  neighing  of  horses — they  come  nearer  and  nearer. 
The  moon  throws  the  long,  dark  shadows  of  those  advancing  horse- 
men over  the  battle-field.  It  is  fearful  to  see  their  rash  approach  ; 
spurring  on  over  thousands  of  pale  corpses,  not  regarding  the  dying, 
who  breathe  out  their  last  piteous  sighs  under  the  hoofs  of  these  wild 
horses. 

The  Ck)S8ack  has  no  pity  ;  he  does  not  shudder  or  draw  back  from 
this  monstrous  open  grave,  which  has  received  thousands  of  men  as 
if  they  were  one  great  corpse.  The  Cossack  has  come  to  rob  and  to 
plunder ;  he  spares  neither  friend  nor  foe.  He  is  the  heir  of  the 
dead  and  of  the  dying,  and  he  has  come  for  his  inheritance.  If  he 
sees  a  ring  sparkling  upon  the  hand  of  a  grinning  corpse,  he  springs 
from  his  horse  and  tears  it  off.  If  his  greedy,  cruel  eye  rests  upon 
a  richimiform  he  seizes  it,  he  tears  it  off  from  the  bleeding,  wounded 
body,  no  matter  whether  it  is  dead  or  still  breathing  and  rattling. 

Look  at  that  wanior  who,  groaning  with  anguish,  his  limbs 
torn  to  pieces,  bleeding  from  a  thousand  wounds,  is  lying  in  an 
open  grave  ;  he  is  wounded  to  death ;  he  still  holds  his  sword  in  his 
left  hand — his  right  arm  has  been  torn  off  by  a  cannon-ball,  a  shot 
has  crushed  his  legs,  and  his  comrades  have  placed  him  in  this  grave 
that  he  might  not  be  trampled  upon  by  the  horses'  hoofs  ;  they  are 
forced  to  leave  him  in  the  hands  of  God  and  o  the  mercy  of  man. 

But  the  Cossack  knows  no  mercy.  That  is  -  word  he  has  never 
heard  in  his  Russian  home ;  he  has  no  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes — 
he  fears  the  Czar  and  his  captain,  and  above  all  other  things,  he 
fears  the  knout.  He  knows  nothing  of  pity,  for  it  has  never  been 
shown  him — how  then  should  he  exercise  it? 

When  the  Cossack  saw  the  Prussian  officer  in  his  gold-embroi- 
dered uniform,  he  sprang  from  his  hoi-se  and  threw  the  bridle  over 
him  ;  a  shrill  whistle  told  the  wild  steed,  the  Cossack's  better  half, 
that  be  must  stand  still.    He  sprang  into  the  grave  wher^  the  Prus- 


AFTER  TSE  BATTLE.  333 

sian  warrior,  the  German  poet,  was  laid  to  rest.  Yes,  a  great  Ger- 
man poet  lies  there — a  poet  by  the  grace  of  God.  All  Germany 
knows  him,  "  their  songster  of  the  spring. "  All  Germany  had  read 
and  been  inspired  by  his  lays.  The  Austrian  and  the  Saxon  con- 
sidered the  Prussian  Major  Ewald  von  Kleist  their  enemy,  but  they 
loved  and  admired  the  poet,  Ewald  von  Kleist.  The  people  are 
never  enemies  to  poesy,  and  even  politics  are  silent  before  her  melo- 
dious voice. 

There  he  lies,  the  gallant  warrior,  the  inspired,  noble  poet ;  his 
broken  eyes  are  turned  to  heaven  ;  his  blue,  cold  lips  are  opened  and 
wearily  stammering  a  few  disconnected  words.  Perhaps  he  thinks 
in  this  last  hour  of  the  last  words  of  his  last  poem.  Perhaps  his 
stiflfening  lips  murmured  these  words  which  his  mangled  hand  had 
written  just  before  the  battle : 

"  Death  for  one's  fatherland  Is  ever  honorable. 
How  gladly  will  I  die  that  noble  death 
When  my  destiny  calls  1 " 

Yes,  death  might  have  been  beautiful,  but  fate  is  never  propi- 
tious to  German  poets.  It  would  have  been  noble  and  sweet  to  die 
in  the  wild  tumult  of  battle,  under  the  sound  of  trumpets,  amid  the 
shouts  of  victory  ;  sweet  thus,  with  a  smile  upon  the  lip  to  yield  up 
the  immortal  spirit. 

Ewald  von  Kleist,  the  German  poet,  received  his  death-wound 
upon  the  field  of  battle,  but  he  did  not  die  there  ;  he  lives,  he  knows 
that  the  battle  is  lost,  that  his  blood  has  been  shed  in  vain.  The 
Cossack  has  come  down  into  his  grave — with  greedy  eyes  he  gazes 
at  the  rich  booty.  This  bleeding,  mangled  body — this  is  to  the  Cos- 
sack not  a  man,  it  is  only  a  uniform  which  is  his ;  with  hands 
trembling  with  greed  he  tears  it  from  the  quivering,  bleeding  form. 
What  to  him  is  the  death-rattle  and  the  blood — even  the  bloody  shirt 
excites  the  covetousness  of  the  barbarian,  and  he  tears  it  from  the 
dying  frame.* 

Tlie  Prussian  warrior,  the  German  poet,  lay  there  naked,  his  own 
blood  alone  covered  his  wounded  body,  wrapped  it  in  a  purple  man- 
tle, worthy  of  the  poet's  crown  with  which  his  countrymen  had 
decked  his  brow\ 

But  Ewald  von  Kleist  is  no  longer  a  poet  or  a  hero — he  is  a  pobr, 
suffering,  toi-tured  child  of  earth ;  he  lies  on  the  damp  ground,  he 
pleads  for  a  few  rags  to  cover  his  wounds,  into  which  the  muddy 
wat«r  of  the  hole  in  which  he  lies  is  rushing. 

And  now  fate  seems  favorable.  A  Russian  officer  is  riding  by— ' 
he  takes  pity  on  the  naked  man  with  the  gaping  wounds  ;  he  tlirows 

*  "  History  of  the  Seven  Years'  War."— Thl6bault,  363. 


334       FREDERICK  THB  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

him  a  soldier's  old  mantle,  apiece  of  bread,  and  a  half  gulden.* 
The  German  poet  receives  the  alms  of  the  Russian  thankfully — he 
covers  himself  with  the  cloak,  he  tries  to  eat  the  bread. 

But  destiny  is  never  propitious  to  German  poets.  The  Cossacks 
swarm  again  upon  the  battle-field,  and  again  they  approach  the 
groaning  warrior  in  the  open  grave  ;  he  has  no  longer  a  glittering 
uniform,  but  the  Cossack  takes  all ;  the  poor  old  mantle  excites  his 
greed — he  tears  it  from  the  unresisting  soldier  ;  he  opens  his  hands 
and  takes  out  the  half  gulden  which  Ewald  von  Kleist  had  received 
from  the  Russian  hussar. 

Again  he  lies  naked,  again  the  muddy  water  forces  into  his 
wounds,  and  adds  cruel  torture  to  the  agonies  of  death.  So  lies  he 
till  the  next  day,  till  the  enemy  takes  pity  upon  him  and  carries 
him  as  a  prisoner  to  Frankfort,  f 

Happy  those  who  meet  with  sudden  death.  It  is  true  all  the 
living  did  not  share  the  cruel  fate  of  Ewald  von  Kleist,  but  all  those 
thousands  who  were  borne  wounded  and  bleeding  from  the  battle- 
field were  conscious  of  their  sufferings  and  their  defeat. 

The  little  village  of  Octshef  near  the  battle-field  was  a  hospital. 
During  the  battle  all  the  inhabitants  had  fled.  The  wounded  had 
taken  possession  of  the  huts  and  the  surgeons  were  hastening  from 
house  to  house  giving  relief  where  it  was  possible.  No  one  entered 
into  those  two  little  huts  which  lay  at  the  other  end  of  the  village, 
somewhat  separated  from  the  others.  And  yet  those  huts  contained 
two  wounded  men.  They  had  been  brought  here  during  the  battle — 
the  siu-geon  had  examined  their  wounds  and  gone  out  silently,  never 
to  return.  Groaning  from  time  to  time,  these  two  wounded  men 
lay  upon  the  straw,  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  door,  longing  for  the 
surgeon  to  bring  them  help,  or  at  least  alleviation; 

And  now  the  door  was  indeed  opened,  and  an  officer  entered. 
"Was  it  the  obscurity  of  twilight,  or  had  blood  and  pain  blinded  the 
eyes  of  the  wounded  men  so  that  they  could  not  recognize  the 
stranger?  It  was  true  his  noble  and  generally  cheerful  face  was 
now  grave  and  stern,  his  cheeks  were  ashy  pale,  and  his  g^reat, 
flashing  eyes  were  dim  ;  but  there  was  still  something  inexpressibly 
majestic  and  commanding  in  his  appearance — though  defeated  and 
cast  down,  he  was  still  a  hero,  a  king — Frederick  the  Great ! 

Frederick  had  come  to  take  up  his  quarters  in  this  lonely  hut,  to 
be  alone  in  his  great  grief ;  but  when  he  saw  the  two  woxmded  men, 

•"  Seven  Years'  War,"  253. 

+  Ewald  von  Kleist  died  a  few  days  after  this,  on  the  84th  of  August.  The  Rus- 
siansgave  him  an  honorable  burial;  and  as  there  was  no  sword  upon  his  cofTtn,  Cap- 
tain Bulow,  chief  of  the  Russian  dragoons,  took  his  own  from  his  side  and  placed  it 
upon  the  bier,  saying,  "  So  worthy  an  officer  shall  not  be  buried  without  every  mark 
Of  bonor."— Arcbenholtz,  im. 


AFTER  THE  BATTLE.  335 

his  expression  changed  to  one  of  earnest  sympathy.  With  hasty 
steps  he  drew  near  to  the  two  officers,  bowed  over  and  questioned 
them  kindly.  They  recognized  his  voice — that  voice  which  had  so 
often  inspired  them  to  bold  deeds  in  the  wild  whirl  of  battle,  but 
whose  tones  were  now  mild  and  sympathetic. 

"  The  king !"  cried  both  in  joyful  surprise,  and  forgetting  their 
woimds  and  helplessness,  they  strove  to  rise,  but  sank  back  with 
hollow  groans,  with  the  blood  streaming  anew  from  their  wounds. 

"Poor  children,"  said  Frederick,  "you  are  badly  wounded." 

"Yes,"  groaned  Lieutenant  von  Grabow,  "badly  wounded,  but 
that  is  of  small  consequence,  if,  your  majesty,  we  only  knew  that 
we  had  gained  the  day.  We  had  taken  two  redoubts,  and  were 
storming  the  third,  when  this  misfortune  befell  us.  Tell  us,  your 
majesty,  is  it  not  true?    Is  not  the  victory  ours?" 

A  dark  shadow  passed  over  the  face  of  the  king,  but  soon  disap- 
peared. 

"  You  must  now  think  only  of  yourselves.  You  have  proved  that 
you  are  brave — the  rest  is  accident  or  fate.  Do  not  despond,  all  will 
be  well.     Have  your  wounds  been  dressed ?    Have  you  been  fed?" 

"  Ah,  sire,  no  devil  will  dress  our  wounds, "  groaned  Lieutenant 
von  Hubenfall. 

"  How, "  cried  the  king,  "  have  they  left  you  here  without  care 
and  assistance?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  there  is  no  earthly  hope  for  us. " 

The  king  was  about  to  answer,  when  several  people,  bearing 
hand-barrows,  accompanied  by  a  surgeon,  entered. 

"What  do  you  wish?"  said  the  king,  angrily. 

"  Sire, "  answered  the  surgeon,  "  we  will  remove  the  wounded,  as 
your  majesty  will  make  your  night- quarters  here. " 

The  king  threw  a  scornful  glance  upon  them. 

"  And  you  suppose  that  I  will  allow  this?  The  wounded  men  re- 
main here.  I  will  seek  shelter  elsewhere.  But,  above  all  things, 
examine  the  wounds  of  these  two  officers  at  once,  and  dress  them. " 

The  surgeon  advanced,  and  examined  them  carefully,  then  drew 
near  the  king. 

"  Yoiu-  majesty, "  said  he,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  it  would  be 
all  in  vain.  A  cannon-ball  has  torn  off  the  right  arm  of  one  of 
these  men,  and  he  must  die  of  gangrene.  The  other  has  a  cartridge- 
load  of  iron  in  his  face  and  in  his  body.  It  is  impossible  to  bind  up 
these  wounds. " 

The  king  did  not  answer  him.  He  stepped  hastily  to  the  straw- 
bed,  and  took  both  the  wounded  men  by  the  hand.  Then,  turning 
to  the  surgeon,  he  said — 

"  Look,  now,  these  two  men  are  young  and  powerful — they  have 


336       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

no  fever.  With  such  young  blood  and  fresh  hearts  Nature  often 
does  wonders.  Dress  them,  and  bind  up  their  wounds,  and,  above 
all  things,  see  that  they  have  nourishment — they  have  need  of  it." 

"  Ah,  yes,  your  majesty  ;  we  have  been  hungry  and  thirsty  a  long 
time, "  said  Grabow. 

The  king  smiled.  "See,  now,  you  think  they  are  lost,  and  yet 
they  have  healthy  stomachs ;  so  long  as  a  man  is  hungry  he  will  not 
die." 

The  surgeon  ojjened  his  case  of  instruments  and  commenced  to 
dress  the  wounds.  The  king  watched  him  for  a  long  time,  then 
stooped  down  and  said,  tenderly,  "Children,  do  not  despair;  I  will 
leani  how  it  goes  with  you,  and  if  you  are  no  longer  fit  for  service, 
I  will  take  care  of  you.  Believe  that  I  will  not  forget  you."  He 
bowed  kindly  and  left  the  room.  His  adjutants  were  awaiting  him 
at  the  door  of  the  tent.  * 

The  king  signed  to  them  to  follow  him,  and  stepping  rapidly 
through  the  village,  he  passed  by  the  huts  from  which  loud  cries  of 
anguish  and  low  murmurs  were  heard. 

"Ah,"  cried  Frederick,  "Dante  did  not  know  all  the  horrore  of 
hell,  or  he  foigot  to  paint  those  I  now  suffer."  He  hastened  on — on 
— on,  in  the  obscure  twilight  of  the  summer  night,  pursued  by  the 
sighs  and  groans  of  his  dying  and  wounded  soldiers;  a  deep,  im- 
measurable sadness  lay  upon  his  brow ;  his  lips  were  trembling ; 
cold  perspiration  stood  upon  his  forehead  ;  his  eyes  wandered  over 
the  battle-field,  then  were  raised  to  heaven  with  a  questioning  and 
reproachful  expression.  Already  the  village  lay  far  behind  him  ; 
but  he  hurried  on,  he  had  no  aim,  no  object ;  he  wished  only  to 
escape  this  hell,  this  cry  of  despair  and  woe  from  the  condemned. 
An  adjutant  dared  at  last  to  step  forward  and  awake  him  from  his 
sad  mood. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "the  Cossacks  are  swarming  in  every  direction, 
and  if  your  majesty  goes  on,  the  most  fearful  results  may  be  antici- 
pated.    The  Cossacks  shoot  at  every  man  who  weare  a  good  coat. " 

The  king  shook  his  head  sadly.  "There  is  no  ball  for  me,"  said 
he  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  I  have  in  vain  called  upon  death.  I  have  prayed 
in  mercy  for  a  ball ;  it  came,  but  it  only  grazed  my  breast.  No,  no 
— there  is  no  ball  for  me !"  He  advanced,  and  the  adjutant  dared 
once  more  to  interrupt  him. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "will  not  your  majesty  seek  night- quarters?" 
♦The  king's  own  words.  The  whole  scene  is  historical.  These  two  officers, 
whom  the  king  saved  in  .this  way  from  death,  recovered  rapidly.  After  they  were 
completely  restored,  they  again  took  part  in  the  contest,  and  were  again  severely 
wounded  at  Kolberg.  They  served  until  peace  was  declared,  and  then  retired  on  the 
invalid  list,  and,  by  the  express  ^rder  of  the  king,  were  flnos^  kiudl/  cared  for.— See 


A  HEROIC  SOUL.  337 

Frederick  raised  his  head,  and  was  in  the  act  of  answering 
nastily,  then  said  :  "  Yes,  I  need  night-quarters. "  He  looked  around 
and  saw  an  empty  peasant's  house  by  the  wayside,  drew  near  and 
entered  silently. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  HEKOIC  SOUL. 

"  I  WILL  pass  the  night  here, "  said  he,  "  the  place  appears  deserted  -, 
we  will  disturb  no  one. " 

The  king  was  right.  The  miserable  old  hut  was  empty.  No  one 
advanced  to  meet  him  as  he  entered.  In  one  comer  of  the  room 
there  was  some  dirty  straw ;  in  the  other  a  wooden  table  and  stool 
— this  was  all. 

"It  suffices  for  me,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "I  will  pass  the 
night  here.     Have  you  my  writing  materials  with  you?" 

"  I  sent  Adjutant  von  Goltz  for  them,  sire,  as  I  did  not  wish  to 
leave  you  alone. " 

Groltz  now  entered  with  the  king's  portfolio,  and  informed  him 
that  he  had  brought  two  grenadiei-s  to  guard  the  house. 

"Havel  still  grenadiers?"  murmured  the  king,  in  a  trembling 
voice.  His  head  fell  upon  his  breast,  and  he  stood  thus  lost  in  deep 
thought  for  a  while.  "  Gentlemen, "  said  he,  at  length,  "  inspect  the 
house.  See  if  there  is  a  more  comfortable  room  than  this  ;  if  not,  I 
suppose  we  can  manage  to  sleep  here.  Send  one  of  the  guard  for 
some  soldiers,  by  whom  I  can  forward  my  dispatches. " 

The  adjutants  bowed,  and  left  the  room.  The  king  was  alone. 
He  could  at  last  give  way  to  his  despair— his  grief. 

"  All,  all  is  lost !"  murmured  the  king,  and  a  voice  within  him 
answered :  "  When  all  is  lost,  there  is  no  escape  but  death !  It  is 
unworthy  to  continue  a  life  without  fame,  without  glory.  The 
grave  alone  is  a  resting-place  for  the  broken-hearted,  humiliated 
man!" 

The  king  listened  attentively  to  this  voice.  He  had  borne  with 
patience  the  sorrows  and  deprivations  of  the  past  years,  but  he  could 
not  survive  the  ruin  of  his  coimtry.  His  coimtry  was  lost.  There 
was  no  chance  of  saving  it ;  his  army  was  gone.  The  victorious 
enemy  had  taken  all  the  neighboring  provinces.  The  Russians  could 
now  march  undisturbed  to  Berlin.  They  would  find  no  resistance, 
for  the  garrison  there  consisted  of  invalids  and  cripples. 

Berlin  was  lost  I  Prussia  was  lost !  The  king  was  resolved  to 
(Jie,  for  he  was  ?i  king  without  a  crowjj,  a  hero  jvitj^py^i  lavirejs,     U? 


338       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

wished  to  die,  for  he  could  not  surviTe  the  destruction  of  his  coun- 
try. But  first  he  must  arrange  his  affairs,  make  his  will,  and  bid 
adieu  to  his  friends.  The  king  opened  the  door  hastily,  and  desired 
that  a  light  should  be  brought — it  was  no  easy  thing  to  procure  in 
this  dismal,  deserted  village.  The  adjutant  succeeded  at  last,  how- 
ever, in  getting  a  few  small  tallow  candles,  and  placing  them  in  old 
bottles,  in  the  absence  of  candlesticks  of  any  description,  he  carried 
them  to  the  king.  Frederick  did  not  observe  him  ;  he  stood  at  the 
open  window,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  starry  firmament.  The  bright 
light  aroused  him  ;  he  turned,  and  approached  the  table. 

"My  last  letters  !"  murmured  he,  sinking  upon  the  wooden  stool, 
and  opening  his  portfolio. 

How  his  enemies  would  have  rejoiced,  could  they  have  seen  him 
in  that  wretched  hovel  I  He  first  wrote  to  General  Fink,  to  whom 
he  wished  to  leave  the  command  of  his  army.  He  must  fulfil  the 
duties  of  state,  before  those  of  friendship.  It  was  not  a  letter — 
rather  an  order  to  General  Fink,  and  read  as  follow;s  : 

"General  Fink  will  find  this  a  weaiy  and  tedious  commission. 
The  army  I  leave  is  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  defend  itself  from 
the  Russians.  Haddeck  will  hasten  to  Berlin.  Loudon  also,  I  pre- 
sume. If  you  intercept  them,  the  Russians  will  be  in  your  rear ;  if 
you  remain  by  the  Oder,  Haddeck  will  surround  you.  I  neverthe- 
less believe,  were  Loudon  to  come  to  Berlin,  you  could  attack  and 
defeat  him.  Tliis,  were  it  possible,  would  give  you  time  to  arrange 
matters,  and  I  can  assure  you,  time  is  every  thing,  in  such  desperate 
circumstances  as  ours.  Koper,  my  secretary,  will  give  you  the  dis- 
patches from  Torgau  and  Dresden.  You  must  acquaint  my  brother, 
whom  I  make  general- in-chief  of  the  army,  with  all  that  passes.  In 
the  mean  time,  his  orders  must  be  obeyed.  The  army  must  swear 
by  my  nephew.  This  is  the  only  advice  I  am  able  to  give.  Had  I 
any  resources,  I  would  stand  fast  by  you. 

"Frederick."* 

"Yes,  I  would  have  stood  by  them,"  murmured  the  king,  as  he 
folded  and  addressed  his  letter.  "  I  would  have  borne  still  longer 
this  life  of  oppression  and  privation  ;  but  now,  honor  demands  tliat 
I  should  die." 

He  took  another  sheet  of  paper.  It  was  now  no  order  or  com- 
mand, but  a  tender,  loving,  farewell  letter  to  his  friend.  General 
Finkenstein. 

"This  morning,  at  eleven  o'clock,  I  attacked  the  enemy;  we 
drove  them  back  to  Gudenberg.  All  my  men  performed  deeds  of 
daring  and  bravery,  but,  at  the  storming  of  Gudenberg,  a  terrific 
GUBiber  of  lives  were  lost.     My  army  became  separated.     I  rcit^^m- 


A  HEROIC  SOUL.  339 

bled  them  three  times,  but  in  vain.  At  last,  they  fled  in  wild  dis- 
order. I  very  nearly  became  a  prisoner,  and  was  obliged  to  leave 
the  field  to  the  enemy.  My  imiform  was  torn  by  the  cannon-balls, 
two  horses  were  shot  underneath  me,  but  death  shunned  me ;  I 
seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life ;  I  could  not  die  !  From  an  army  of 
forty-eight  thousand  men,  there  now  remains  three  thousand.  The 
consequences  of  this  battle  will  be  more  fearful  than  the  battle  itself. 
It  is  a  terrible  misfortune,  and  I  will  not  survive  it.  There  is  no 
one  to  whom  I  can  look  for  help.  I  cannot  survive  my  country's 
ruin.     Farewell !" 

"And  now,"  said  the  king,  when  he  had  sealed  and  directed  his 
letter,  "now  I  am  ready  ;  my  worldly  affairs  are  settled.  I  am  at 
the  end  of  my  sufferings,  and  dare  claim  that  last,  deep  rest  granted 
by  Nature  to  us  all.  I  have  worked  enough,  suffered  enough  ;  and 
if,  after  a  life  of  stormy  disastei-s,  I  seek  my  grave,  no  one  can  say 
it  was  cowardly  not  to  live — for  all  the  weight  of  life  rolled  upon  me, 
forced  me  to  the  groimd,  and  the  grave  opened  beneath  my  feet.  I 
continued  to  hope,  when  overwhelmed  with  defeat  at  every  point. 
Eveiy  morning  brought  new  clouds,  new  sorrows.  I  bore  it  coura- 
geously, trusting  that  misfortune  would  soon  weary,  the  storms  blow- 
over,  and  a  clear,  cloudless  sky  envelop  me.  I  deceived  myself 
gi-eatly  ;  my  son-ows  increased.  And  now,  the  worst  has  happened  ; 
my  country  is  lost !  Who  dares  say  I  should  survive  this  loss?  To  die 
at  the  proper  time  is  also  a  duty.  Tlie  Romans  felt  this,  and  acted 
upon  it.  I  am  a  true  scholar  of  the  old  masters,  and  wish  to  prove 
myself  worthy  of  them.  When  all  is  lost,  the  liberty  to  die  should 
not  be  denied.  The  world  has  nothing  more  to  do  with  me,  and  I 
laugh  at  her  weak,  unjust  laws.  Like  Tiberius,  will  I  live  and  die  ! 
Farewell,  then,  thou  false  existence ;  farewell,  weak  man !  Ah ! 
there  are  so  many  fools — so  few  men  amongst  you  ;  I  have  found  so 
many  faithless  friends,  so  many  traitors,  so  few  honest  men !  In 
the  hour  of  misfortune  they  all  deserted  me  !  But,  no !"  said  he  ; 
"one  remained  true.  D'Argens  never  deceived  me,  and  I  had 
almost  forgotten  to  take  leave  of  him.  Well,  death  must  wait  for 
me,  while  I  write  to  D'Argens  !" 

A  heavenly  inspiration  now  beamed  on  his  countenance ;  his 
eyes  shone  like  stars.  The  holy  muse  had  descended  to  comfort  the 
despairing  hero,  to  whisper  loving  and  precious  words  to  him. 
Thus  standing  at  death's  portals,  Fi'ederick  wrote  his  most  beauti- 
ful poem,  called  "  Ami  le  sort  en  est  jete. "  A  great  wail  of  woe 
burst  from  his  soul.  The  sorrows,  the  grievances  hid  until  now 
from  all,  he  portrayed  in  touching,  beautiful  words  to  his  absent 
friend.  He  pictured  to  him  his  sufferings,  his  hopes,  his  struggles, 
aad  finally,  his  determination  to  die.     When  all  this  had   beei) 


340       PHEDEMCK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

painted  in  the  most  glowing  colore,  when  his  wounds  were  laid  bare^ 
he  wrote  a  last  and  touching  farewell  to  his  friend : 

**  Adieu,  D'Argens:  dans  ce  tableau, 
De  mon  tr^pas  tu  vols  la  cause; 
Au  moins  ne  pense  p>as  du  n^ant  du  cavsati, 
Que  j'asplre  k  I'apothSose. 
Tout  ce  que  TamitiS  par  ces  vers  propose, 
C'est  que  tant  qu'Icl-bas  le  c6Ieste  flambeau; 
Eclairera  tes  Jours  tandls  que  Je  repose, 
£t  lorsque  le  printemps  paralssant  de  nouveau. 
De  son  sein  abondant  foffre  lea  fleurs  ^closes, 
Chaque  fols  d"un  bouquet  de  myrthes  et  de  roses, 
Tu  daignes  parer  mon  tombeau."  ♦ 

"  Ah !"  murmured  the  king,  as  he  folded  and  addressed  his  poeti- 
cal lettter,  "how  lovely  it  must  now  be  at  Sans-Souci  I  Well,  well  1 
my  grave  shall  be  there,  and  D'Argens  will  cover  it  with  flowers. 
And  have  I  no  other  friends  at  Sans-Souci  ?  My  good  old  hounds, 
my  crippled  soldiers !  They  cannot  come  to  me,  but  I  will  go  to 
them. " 

The  king  then  arose,  opened  the  door,  and  asked  if  a  messenger 
was  in  readiness ;  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  he  gave 
the  three  letters  to  the  adjutant.  "  And  now  my  work  is  finished, " 
said  he,  "now  I  can  die. "  He  took  from  his  breast-pocket  a  small 
casket  of  gold  which  he  always  carried  with  him,  and  which,  in  the 
late  battle,  had  served  him  as  a  shield  against  the  enemy's  balls. 
The  lid  had  been  hollowed  in  by  a  ball ;  strange  to  say,  this  casket, 
which  had  saved  his  life,  was  now  to  cause  his  death.  For  within 
it  there  was  a  small  vial  containing  three  pills  of  the  most  deadly 
poison,  which  the  king  had  kept  with  him  since  the  beginning  of 
the  war.  The  king  looked  at  the  casket  thoughtfully.  "  Death  here 
fought  against  death  ;  and  still  how  glorious  it  would  have  been  to 
die  upon  the  battle-field  believing  myself  the  victor !"  He  held  the 
vial  up  to  the  light  and  shook  it ;  and  as  the  pills  bounded  up  and 
down,  he  said,  smiling  sadly,  "  Death  is  merry  !  It  comes  eagerly 
to  invite  me  to  the  dance.  Well,  well,  my  gay  cavalier,  I  am  ready 
for  the  dance." 

He  opened  the  vial  and  emptied  the  pills  into  his  hand.  Then 
arose  and  approached  the  window  to  see  once  more  the  sky  with  its 
glittering  stars  and  its  brightly -beaming  moon,  and  the  battle-field 
upon  which  thousands  of  his  subjects  had  this  daj"^  found  their  death. 
Then  raised  the  hand  with  the  pills.  What  was  it  that  caused  him 
to  hesitate?  Why  did  his  hand  fall  slowly  down?  What  were  his 
eyes  so  intently  gazing  on? 

*  See  note,  pace  578. 


A  HEROIC  SGtJL.  341 

The  king  was  not  gazing  at  the  sky,  the  stars,  or  the  moon  ;  but 
far  off  into  the  distance,  at  the  Austrian  camp-fires.  There  were 
the  conquerors,  there  was  Soltikow  and  Loudon  with  their  armies. 
The  king  had  observed  these  fires  before  entering  the  hut,  but  their 
number  had  now  increased,  a  sign  that  the  enemy  had  not  advanced, 
but  was  resting.  How  ?  Was  it  possible  that  the  enemy,  not  taking 
advantage  of  their  victory,  was  not  following  the  conquered  troops, 
but  giving  them  time  to  rally,  to  outmarch  them,  perhaps  time  to 
reach  the  Spree,  perhaps  Berlin? 

"If  this  is  so,"  said  the  king,  answering  his  own  thoughts,  "if 
the  enemy  neglects  to  give  me  the  finishing-blow,  all  is  not  lost. 
If  there  is  a  chance  of  salvation  for  my  country,  I  must  not  die ;  she 
needs  me,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  retrieve  the 
past." 

He  looked  again  at  the  camp-fires,  and  a  bright  smile  played 
about  his  lips. 

"If  those  fires  speak  aright,"  said  he,  "my  enemies  are  more 
generous — or  more  stupid — than  I  thought,  and  many  advantages 
may  still  be  derived  from  this  lost  battle.  If  so,  I  must  return  to 
my  old  motto  that  'life  is  a  duty. '  And  so  long  as  good,  honorable 
work  is  to  be  done,  man  has  no  right  to  seek  the  lazy  rest  of  the 
grave.  I  must  ascertain  at  once  if  my  suspicions  are  correct. 
Death  may  wait  awhile.  As  long  as  there  is  a  necessity  for  living, 
I  cannot  die. " 

He  returned  the  pills  to  the  vial  and  hid  the  casket  in  its  £<wrmer 
resting-place.  Then  passing  hastily  through  the  room,  he  opened 
the  door.  The  two  adjutants  were  sitting  upon  the  wooden  bench 
in  front  of  the  hut ;  both  were  asleep.  The  grenadiers  were  pacing 
with  even  tread  up  and  down  before  the  bouse  ;  deep  quiet  prevailed. 
The  king  stood  at  the  door  looking  in  amazement  at  the  glorious 
scene  before  him.  He  inhaled  with  delight  the  soft  summer  air ; 
never  had  it  seemed  to  him  so  balmy,  so  full  of  strengthening 
power,  and  he  acknowledged  that  never  had  the  stars,  the  moon, 
the  sky  looked  as  beautiful.  With  lively  joy  he  felt  the  night- wind 
toying  with  his  hair.  The  king  would  not  tire  of  all  this ;  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  a  friend,  dead  long  since,  mourned  and  bewailed,  had 
suddenly  appeared  to  him  beaming  with  health,  and  as  if  he  must 
open  his  arms  and  say,  "  Welcome,  thou  returned  one.  Fate  sepa- 
rated us  ;  but  now,  as  we  have  met,  we  will  never  leave  one  another, 
but  cling  together  through  life  and  death,  through  good  and  evil 
report. " 

Life  was  the  friend  that  appeared  to  Frederick,  and  he  now  felt 
his  great  love  for  it.  Raising  his  ej^es  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  to  the 
sky,  he  murmured,  "  I  swear  not  to  seek  death  imless  at  the  last  ex- 


342        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

kreinity,  if,   when  made  a  prisoner,  I  cannot  escape.     I  swear  to 
live,  to  suffer,  so  long  as  I  am  free. " 

He  had  assumed  the  harness  of  life,  and  was  determined  to  battle 
bravely  with  it. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE     TWO     GRENADIERS. 

Sjiilino,  and  with  elastic  step,  the  king  advanced  to  meet  the 
two  grenadiers,  who  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  as  he  approached  them. 

"Grenadiers,"  said  he,  "  why  are  you  not  with  your  comrades?" 

"  Our  comrades  fled, "  said  one. 

"  It  is  dishonorable  to  fly, "  said  the  other. 

The  king  was  startled.  These  voices  were  familiar,  he  had 
surely  heard  them  before. 

"  I  ought  to  know  you, "  said  he ;  "  this  is  not  the  first  time  we 
have  spoken  together.     AVhat  is  your  name,  my  son?" 

"  Fritz  Kober  is  my  name, "  said  the  grenadier. 

"And  yours?" 

"Charles  Henry  Buschman,"  said  the  other. 

"  You  are  not  mistaken,  sir  king  I  we  have  met  and  spoken  be- 
fore, but  it  was  on  a  better  night  than  this. " 

"Where  was  it?"  said  the  king. 

"The  night  before  the  great,  the  glorious  battle  of  Leuthen," 
said  Fritz  Kober,  gravely;  "at  that  time,  sir  king,  you  sat  at  our 
tent-fire  and  ate  dumplings  with  us.  Charles  Henry  knows  how  to 
cook  them  so  beautifully  !" 

"Ah  1  I  remember,"  said  the  king ;  "you  made  me  pay  my  share 
of  the  costs. " 

"And  you  did  so,  like  a  true  king,"  said  Fritz  Kober.  "After- 
ward you  came  back  to  our  tent- fire,  and  Charles  Henry  Buschman 
told  you  fairy  tales ;  nobody  can  do  that  so  beautifully  as  Charles 
Henry,  and  you  slept  refreshingly  throughout. " 

"  No,  no,  grenadier, "  said  the  king,  "  I  did  not  sleep,  and  I  can 
tell  you  to-day  all  that  Charles  Henry  related. " 

"Well,  what  was  it?"  said  Fritz  Kober,  with  great  delight. 

The  king  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  said,  in  a  soft  voice : 

"  He  told  of  a  king  who  was  so  fondly  loved  by  a  beautiful  fairy, 
that  she  changed  herself  into  a  sword  when  the  king  went  to  war 
and  helped  him  to  defeat  his  enemies.     Is  that  it,  Fritz  Kober?" 

"  Nearly  so,  m  king ;  I  wish  you  had  such  a  fairy  at  your  side 
to-day, " 


FREDERICK   AND  THE  TWO  GRENADIERS. 


THE  TWO  GRENADIERS.  343 

"Still,  Fritz,"  whispered  Charles  Henry  Buschman,  "our  king 
does  not  need  the  help  of  a  fairy  ;  our  king  can  maintain  his  own 
cause,  and  God  is  with  his  sword. " 

"Do  you  truly  believe  that,  my  son?"  said  the  king,  deeply 
moved.  "  Have  you  still  this  great  confidence  in  me  ?  Do  you  still 
believe  that  I  can  sustain  myself  and  that  God  is  with  me?" 

"  We  have  this  confidence,  and  we  will  never  lose  it !"  cried 
Charles  Henry,  quickly.  "  Our  enemies  over  there  have  no  Frederick 
to  lead  them  on,  no  commander-in-chief  to  share  with  them  hunger 
and  thirst,  and  danger  and  fatigue ;  therefore  they  cannot  love  their 
leaders  as  we  do  oui-s. " 

"And  then,"  said  Frit/  Kober,  thoughtfully,  "lam  always  think- 
ing that  this  war  is  like  a  battle  of  the  cats  and  hounds.  Sometimes 
it  looks  as  if  the  little  cats  would  get  the  better  of  the  great  bull- 
dogs ;  they  have  sharp  claws,  and  scratch  the  dogs  in  the  face  till 
they  can  neither  see  nor  hear,  and  must  for  a  while  give  way  ;  they 
go  off,  however,  give  themselves  a  good  shake,  and  open  their  eyes, 
and  spring  forward  as  great  and  strong  and  full  of  courage  as  ever  ; 
they  seize  upon  the  poor  cats  in  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  bite  them 
deadly  with  their  strong,  powerful  teeth.  What  care  they  if  the  cats 
do  scratch  in  the  mean  while?  No,  no,  sir  king,  the  cats  cannot 
hold  out  to  the  end  ;  claws  are  neither  so  strong  nor  so  lasting  as 
teeth. " 

"  Yes, "  said  the  king,  laughing,  "  but  how  do  you  know  but  our 
foes  over  there  are  the  hounds  and  we  are  the  little  cats?" 

"  What !"  cried  Fritz  Kober,  amazed,  "  we  shall  be  the  cats?-  No, 
no,  sir  king,  we  are  the  great  hounds. " 

"But  how  can  you  prove  this?" 

"How  shall  I  prove  it?"  said  Fritz  Kober,  somewhat  embarrassed- 
After  a  short  pause,  he  cried  out,  gayly,  "  I  have  it — I  will  prove  it. 
Those  over  there  are  the  cats  because  they  are  Russians  and  Austri- 
ans,  and  do  not  serve  a  king  as  we  do ;  they  have  only  two  empresses, 
two  women.  Now,  sir  king,  am  I  not  right?  Women  and  cats,  are 
they  not  alike?  So  those  over  there  are  the  cats  and  we  are  the  bull- 
dogs !" 

.Frederick  was  highly  amused.  "Take  care,"  said  he,  "that 
'those  over  there'  do  not  hear  you  liken  their  empresses  to  cats." 

"  And  if  they  are  empresses, "  said  Fritz  Kober,  dryly,  "  they  are 
still  women,  and  women  are  cats. " 

The  king  looked  over  toward  the  camp-fires,  which  were  boldly 
shining  on  the  horizon. 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  those  fires?"  said  he. 

"About  an  hour,"  said  Charles  Henry,  "not  more." 

"One  hour,"  repeated  the  king,  softly.     "In  one  hour,  then,  I 


344       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAinLY. 

could  know  my  fate !  Listen,  children,  which  of  you  will  go  fo» 
me?" 

Both  exclaimed  in  the  same  moment,  "  I  will !" 

"  It  is  a  fearful  attempt, "  said  the  king,  earnestly ;  "  the  C!ossftcka 
are  swarming  in  every  direction,  and  if  you  escape  them,  you  may 
be  caught  in  the  camp  and  shoe  as  spies. " 

"  I  will  take  care  that  they  shall  not  recognize  me  as^n  enemy, " 
said  Charles  Henry,  quietly. 

"I  also,"  said  Fritz  Kober,  zealously.  "You  stay,  Charles 
Henry,  we  dare  not  both  leave  the  king.  You  know  that  only  this 
evening,  while  upon  the  watch,  we  swore  that,  even  if  the  whole 
army  of  the  enemy  marched  against  us,  we  would  not  desert  our 
ling,  but  would  stand  at  our  post  as  long  as  there  was  a  drop  of 
blood  in  our  veins  or  a  breath  in  our  bodies. " 

The  king  laid  his  hands  upon  the  two  soldiers  and  looked  at  them 
with  much  emotion.  The  moon,  which  stood  great  and  full  in  the 
heavens,  lighted  up  this  curious  group,  and  threw  three  long,  dark 
shadows  over  the  plain. 

"And  you  have  sworn  that,  my  children?"  said  the  king,  after 
a  long  pause.  "  Ah,  if  all  my  men  thought  as  you  do  we  would  not 
have  been  defeated  this  day. " 

"Sir  king,  your  soldiers  all  think  as  we  do,  but  fate  was  against 
us.  Just  as  I  said,  the  cats  outnumbered  us  to-day,  but  we  will 
bite  them  bravely  for  it  next  time.  And  now  tell  me,  sir  king, 
what  shall  I  do  over  there  in  the  camp?" 

Before  the  king  could  answer,  Charles  Heniy  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"  Let  me  go, "  said  he,  entreatingly  ;  "  Fritz  Kober  is  so  daring,  so 
undaunted,  he  is  not  cautious ;  they  will  certainly  shoot  him,  and 
then  you  have  lost  the  best  soldier  in  your  army. " 

"Your  loss,  I  suppose,  would  not  be  felt ;  the  king  can  do  with- 
out you. " 

"Listen,  children."  said  the  king,  "it  is  best  that  you  both  go; 
one  can  protect  the  other,  and  four  ears  are  better  than  two. " 

"  Tlie  king  is  right,  that  is  best — we  will  both  go, " 

"And  leave  the  king  alone  and  unguarded?" 

"No,"  said  the  king,  pointing  to  the  two  sleepers,  "I  have  my 
two  adjutants,  and  they  will  keep  guard  for  me.  Now,  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  Over  there  is  the  enemy,  and  it  is  most 
important  for  me  to  know  what  he  is  doing,  and  what  he  proposes 
to  do.  Go,  then,  and  listen.  Their  generals  have  cei-tainly  taken 
up  their  quarters  in  the  village.  You  must  ascertain  that  positively, 
and  then  draw  near  their  quarters.  You  will  return  as  quickly  aa 
possible,  and  inform  me  of  all  that  you  hear  and  see. " 


THE  TWO  GRENADIERS.  345 

"  la  that  all?"  said  Fritz  Kober. 

"That  is  all.  Now  be  off,  and  if  you  do  your  duty  well,  and 
return  fresh  and  in  good  order,  you  shall  be  both  made  officers. " 

Fritz  Kober  laughed  aloud.  "  No,  no,  sir  king,  we  know  that  old 
story  already. " 

"It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  promise  us  any  thing,  your 
majesty, "  said  Charles  Henry  ;  "  we  do  not  go  for  a  reward,  but  for 
respect  and  love  to  our  king. " 

"But  tell  me,  Fritz  Kober,  why  you  laughed  so  heartily?"  said 
the  king. 

"  Because  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  your  majesty  has  promised 
to  make  us  officers.  Before  the  battle  of  Leuthen,  you  said  if  we 
were  brave  and  performed  valiant  deeds,  you  would  make  us  officers. 
Well,  we  were  brave.  Charles  Henry  took  seven  prisoners,  and  I 
took  nine  ;  but  we  are  not  officers. " 

"  You  shall  be  to-morrow, "  said  the  king.  "  Now,  hasten  off,  and 
come  back  as  quickly  as  possible. " 

"  We  will  leave  our  muskets  here, "  said  Charles  Henry  ;  "  we  dare 
not  visit  our  enemies  in  Prussian  array. " 

They  placed  their  arms  at  the  house  door,  and  then  clasping  each 
other's  hands,  and  making  a  military  salute,  they  hastened  off. 

The  king  looked  after  them  till  their  slender  forms  were  lost  in 
the  distance. 

"With  fifty  thousand  such  soldiers  I  could  conquer  the  world," 
murmured  he  ;  "  they  are  of  the  true  metal. " 

He  turned,  and  stepping  up  to  the  two  sleepers,  touched  them 
lightly  on  the  shoulders.  They  sprang  up  alarmed  when  they  recog- 
nized the  king. 

"  You  need  not  excuse  yourselves, "  said  Frederick  kindly,  "  you 
have  had  a  day  of  great  fatigue,  and  are,  of  course,  exhausted. 
Come  into  the  house,  the  night  air  is  dangerous ;  we  will  sleep  here 
together. " 

"Where  are  the  two  grenadiers?"  said  Goltz. 

"  I  have  sent  them  off  on  duty. " 

"Then  your  majesty  must  allow  us  to  remain  on  guard.  I  have 
slept  well,  and  am  entirely  refreshed. " 

"I  also,"  said  the  second  lieutenant.  "Will  your  majesty  be 
pleased  to  sleep?  we  will  keep  guard. " 

"Not  so,"  said  the  king,  "the  moon  will  watch  over  us  all. 
Come  in." 

"  But  it  is  impossible  that  your  majesty  should  sleep  thus,  entirely 
unguarded.  The  first  Cossack  that  dashes  by  could  take  aim  at  your 
majesty  through  the  window. " 

Frederick  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  The  ball  which  will  strike 
23 


346       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

me  will  come  from  above,*  and  that  you  cannot  intercept.  No,  it 
is  better  to  have  no  watch  before  the  door ;  we  M'ill  not  draw  the 
attention  of  troops  passing  by  to  this  house.  I  think  no  one  will 
suppose  that  this  miserable  and  ruinous  barrack,  through  which  the 
wind  howls,  is  the  residence  of  a  king.  Come,  then,  messieurs." 
He  stepped  into  the  hut,  followed  by  the  two  adjutants,  who  dared 
no  longer  oppose  him.  "  Put  out  that  light, "  said  the  king,  "  the 
moon  will  be  our  torch,  and  will  glorify  our  bed  of  straw. "  He  drew 
his  sword,  and  grasping  it  firmly  in  his  right  hand,  he  stretched 
himself  upon  the  straw.  "  There  is  room  for  both  of  yoa— lie  down. 
Good  night,  sii*s. " 

Frederick  slightly  raised  his  three-cornered  hat  in  greeting,  and 
then  laid  it  over  his  face  as  a  protection  from  the  moonlight  and  the 
cold  night  air.  The  adjutants  laid  down  silently  at  his  feet,  and 
soon  no  sound  was  heard  in  the  room  but  the  loud  breathing  of  the 
three  sleepers. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    RIGHT    COUNSEL. 

Hand  in  hand  the  two  grenadiers  advanced  directly  toward  the 
battle-field.  Before  thej'  could  approach  the  enemy's  camp  they 
must  borrow  two  Austrian  uniforms  from  the  dead  upon  the  plain. 
It  was  not  diflBcult,  amongst  so  many  dead  bodies,  to  find  two  Aus- 
trian officers,  and  the  two  Prussian  grenadiers  went  quickly  to  work 
to  rob  the  dead  and  appropriate  their  garments. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  said  Charles  Henry,  shuddering,  "a 
cold  chill  thrills  through  me  when  I  think  of  putting  on  a  coat 
which  I  have  just  taken  from  a  dead  body.  It  seems  to  me  the 
marble  chillness  of  the  corpse  will  insinuate  itself  into  my  whole 
body,  and  that  I  shall  never  be  warm  again. " 

Fritz  Kober  looked  up  with  wide-open  eyes  I  "  You  have  such 
curious  thoughts,  Charles  Henry,  such  as  come  to  no  other  man ; 
but  you  are  right,  it  is  a  frosty  thing."  And  now  he  had  removed 
the  uniform  and  was  about  to  draw  off  his  own  jacket  and  assume 
the  white  coat  of  the  Austrian.  "It  is  a  great  happiness,"  said  he, 
"that  we  need  not  change  our  trousers,  a  little  clearer  or  darker 
gray  can  make  no  difference  in  the  night." 

Cliarles  Henry  was  in  the  act  of  drawing  on  the  coat  of  the  dead 
man,  when  Fritz  Kober  suddenly  seized  his  arm  and  held  him  back. 
"Stop,"  said  he,  "you  must  do  me  a  favor — this  coat  is  too  narrow, 
*  The  king's  own  words.— See  Nicolai,  p.  118. 


THE  RIGHT  COUNSEL.  347 

and  it  pinches  me  fearfully  ;  you  are  thinner  than  I  am,  and  I  think 
it  will  fit  you  exactly  ;  take  it  and  give  me  yours."  He  jerked  off 
the  coat  and  handed  it  to  his  friend. 

"  No,  no,  Fritz  Kober, "  said  Charles  Henry,  in  a  voice  so  soft  and 
sweet,  that  Fritz  was  confused  and  bewildered  by  it.  "  No,  Fritz, 
I  understand  you  fully.  You  have  the  heart  of  an  angel ;  you  only 
pretend  that  this  coat  is  too  narrow  for  you  that  you  may  induce 
me  to  take  the  one  you  have  alreadj'  warmed. " 

It  was  well  that  Fritz  had  his  back  turned  to  the  moon,  other- 
wise his  friend  would  have  seen  that  his  face  was  crimson ;  he 
blushed  as  if  detected  in  some  wicked  act.  However,  he  tore  the 
uniform  away  from  Charles  Henry  rather  roughly,  and  hastened  to 
put  it  on. 

"  Folly, "  said  he,  "  the  coat  squeezes  me,  that  is  all !  Besides,  it 
is  not  wise  to  fool  away  our  time  in  silly  talking.  Let  us  go 
onward. " 

"Directly  over  the  battle-field?"  said  Charles  Henry,  shuddering. 

"  Directly  over  the  battle-field, "  said  Kober,  "  because  that  is  the 
nearest  way. " 

"  Come,  then, "  said  Charles,  giving  him  his  hand. 

It  was  indeed  a  fearful  path  through  which  they  must  walk. 
They  passed  by  troops  of  corpses — by  thousands  of  groaning,  rattling, 
dying  men — by  many  severely  wounded,  who  cried  out  to  them 
piteously  for  mercy  and  help !  Often  Charles  Henry  hesitated  and 
stood  still  to  offer  consolation  to  the  unhappy  wretches,  but  Fritz 
Kober  drew  him  on.  "  We  cannot  help  them,  and  we  have  far  to 
go !"  Often  the  swarming  Cossacks,  dashing  around  on  their  agile 
little  ponies,  called  to  them  from  afar  off  in  their  barbarous  speech, 
but  when  they  drew  near  and  saw  the  Austrian  imiforms,  they 
passed  them  quietly,  and  were  not  surprised  they  had  not  given  the 
pass-word. 

At  last  they  passed  the  battle-field,  and  came  on  the  open  plain, 
at  the  end  of  which  they  perceived  the  camp-fires  of  the  Russians 
and  Austrians.  The  nearer  they  approached,  the  more  lively  was 
the  scene.  Shouts,  laughter,  loud  calls,  and  outcries — from  time  to 
time  a  word  of  command.  And  in  the  midst  of  this  mad  confusion, 
here  and  there  soldiers  were  running,  market-women  offering  them 
wares  cheap,  and  exulting  soldiers  assembling  around  the  camp- 
fires.  From  time  to  time  the  regular  step  of  the  patroutUe  was 
heard,  who  surrounded  the  camp,  and  kept  a  watchful  eye  in  every 
direction. 

Arm  in  arm  they  passed  steadily  around  the  camp.  "  One  thing 
I  know,"  whispered  Fritz  Kober,  "they  have  no  thought  of  march- 
ing.   They  will  pass  a  quiet,  peaceful  night  by  their  camp-firee, " 


348        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"I  agree  with  you, "  said  Charles  Henry,  "but  let  us  go  forward 
and  listen  a  little ;  perhaps  we  can  learn  where  the  generals  are 
quartered. " 

"Look,  look!  it  must  be  there,"  said  Fritz  Kober,  hastily. 
"There  are  no  camp-fires  ;  but  there  is  a  brilliant  light  in  the  peas- 
ants' huts,  and  it  appears  to  me  that  I  see  a  guard  before  the  doors. 
These,  certainly,  are  the  headquarters. " 

"Let  us  go  there,  then, "  said  Charles  Henry  ;  "but  we  must  ap- 
proach the  houses  from  behind,  and  thus  avoid  the  guard." 

They  moved  cautiously  around,  and  drew  near  the  houses.  Pro- 
found quiet  reigned  in  this  neighborhood  ;  it  was  the  reverence  of 
subordination— the  effect  which  the  presence  of  superior  officers 
ever  exercises  upon  their  men.  Here  stood  groups  of  officers,  lightly 
whispering  together — there  soldiers  were  leading  their  masters' 
horses  ;  not  far  off  orderlies  were  waiting  on  horseback — sentinels 
with  shouldered  arms  were  going  slowly  by.  The  attention  of  all 
seemed  to  be  fixed  upon  the  two  small  houses,  and  every  glance  and 
every  ear  was  turned  eagerly  toward  the  brilliantly  lighted  win- 
dows. 

"We  have  hit  the  mark  exactly, "  whispered  Fritz  Kober ;  he  had 
succeeded  with  his  friend  in  forcing  his  way  into  the  little  alley 
which  separated  the  two  houses.  "We  have  now  reached  the  head- 
quarters of  the  generals.  Look  !  there  is  an  Austrian  sentinel  with 
his  bear's  cap.     Both  the  Austrian  and  Russian  generals  are  here. " 

"  Let  us  watch  the  Russians  a  little  through  the  window, "  said 
Charles  Henry,  slipping  forward. 

They  reached  the  comer,  and  were  hidden  by  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
which  overshadowed  the  huts.  Suddenly  they  heard  the  word  of 
command,  and  there  was  a  general  movement  among  the  files  of 
soldiers  assembled  about  the  square.  The  officers  placed  themselves 
in  rank,  the  soldiers  presented  arms  ;  for,  at  this  moment,  the  Aus- 
trian General  Loudon,  surrounded  by  his  staff,  stepped  from  one  of 
the  small  houses  into  the  square.  The  Cossacks,  who  were  crouched 
down  on  the  earth  before  the  door,  raised  themselves,  and  also  pre- 
sented arms. 

While  Loudon  stood  waiting,  the  frw'O  Prussian  grenadiers  slipped 
slyly  to  the  other  hut. 

"Let  us  go  behind,"  whispered  Charles  Henry.  "There  are  no 
sentinels  there,  and  perhaps  we  may  find  a  door,  and  get  into  the 
house. " 

Behind  the  hut  was  a  little  garden  whose  thick  shrubs  and  bushes 
gave  complete  concealment  to  the  two  grenadiers.  Noiselessly  they 
sprang  over  the  little  fence,  and  made  a  recoiittoissance  of  the  ter- 
ratn^uBseeH)  unaoticed,  they  drrv  arnv  th.e  ht?«!sf .    Ai  thty  »^Mpp»A 


THE  RIGHT  COUNSEL.  349 

from  behind  the  bushes,  Fritz  Kober  seized  his  friend's  arm,  and 
with  diflSculty  suppressed  a  cry  of  joy. 

The  scene  which  was  presented  to  them  was  well  calculated  to 
rejoice  the  hearts  of  brave  soldiers.  They  had  reached  the  goal,  and 
might  now  hope  to  fulfil  the  wishes  of  their  king.  The  quarters  of 
the  Russian  general  were  plainly  exposed  to  them.  In  this  great 
room,  which  was  evidently  the  ball-room  of  the  village,  at  a  long 
oak-table,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  sat  General  Soltikow,  and 
around  him  sat  and  stood  the  generals  and  officers.  At  the  door, 
half  a  dozen  Cossacks  were  crouching,  staring  sleepily  on  the  ground. 
The  room  was  brilliantly  illuminated  with  wax-lights,  and  gave  the 
two  grenadiers  an  opportunity  of  seeing  it  in  every  part.  Fate 
appeared  to  favor  them  in  every  way,  and  gave  them  an  opportunity 
to  hear  as  well  as  see.  The  window  on  the  garden  was  opened  to 
give  entrance  to  the  cool  night  air,  and  near  it  there  was  a  thick 
branch  of  a  tree  in  which  a  man  could  conceal  himself. 

"  Look  there, "  said  Charles  Henry,  "  I  will  hide  in  that  tree.  We 
will  make  our  observations  from  different  stand-points.  Perhaps 
one  of  us  may  see  what  escapes  the  other.  Let  us  attend  closely, 
that  we  may  tell  all  to  our  king. " 

No  man  in  this  room  guessed  that  in  the  silent  little  garden  four 
flashing  eyes  were  observing  all  tliat  passed. 

At  the  table  sat  the  Russian  commander-in-chief,  surrounded  by 
his  generals  and  officers.  Before  him  lay  letters,  maps,  and  plans, 
at  which  he  gazed  from  time  to  time,  while  he  dictated  an  account 
of  the  battle  to  the  officer  sitting  near  him,  Soltikow  was  preparing 
a  dispatch  for  the  Empress  Elizabeth.  A  few  steps  farther  off,  in 
stiff  military  bearing,  stood  the  officers  who  were  giving  in  their 
reports,  and  whose  statements  brought  a  dark  cloud  to  the  brow  of 
the  victorious  commander.  Turning  with  a  hasty  movement  of  the 
head  to  the  small  man  with  the  gold-embroidered  uniform  and  the 
stiffly-frizzed  wig,  he  said — 

"Did  you  hear  that,  sir  marquis V  Ten  thousand  of  my  brave 
soldiers  lie  dead  upon  the  battle-field,  and  as  many  more  are  severely 
wounded." 

"  It  follows  then, "  said  the  Marquis  Montalembert,  the  French 
commissioner  between  the  courts  of  Vienna,  Petersburg,  and  Paris, 
"  it  follows  then,  that  the  king  of  Prussia  has  forty  thousand  dead 
and  wounded,  and,  consequently,  his  little  army  is  utterly  de- 
stroyed. " 

"Who  knows?"  said  Soltikow;  "the  king  of  Prussia  is  accus- 
tomed to  sell  his  defeats  dearly.  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if 
he  had  lost  fewer  soldiei"s  than  we  have."* 

*  Soltikow'8  owu  wonla— See  Archeuboltz,  p.  306. 


350       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Well,  I  think  he  has  now  nothing  more  to  lose, "  said  the  mar- 
quis, laughing  ;  "  it  rests  with  you  to  give  the  last  coup  de  grdce  to 
this  conquered  and  flying  king,  and  forever  prevent — " 

The  entrance  of  an  officer  interrupted  him.  The  oflBcer  announced 
General  von  Loudon. 

Solitkow  arose,  and  advanced  to  the  door  to  welcome  the  Aus- 
trian general.  A  proud  smile  was  on  his  face  as  he  gave  his  hand 
to  Loudon ;  he  did  this  with  the  air  of  a  gracious  superior  who 
wished  to  be  benevolent  to  his  subordinate. 

The  quick,  firm  glance  of  Loudon  seemed  to  read  the  haughty 
heart  of  his  ally,  and,  no  doubt  for  this  reason,  he  scarcely  touched 
Soltikow's  hand.  With  erect  head  and  proud  step  he  advanced  into 
the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  I  resolved  to  come  to  your  excellency, "  said  Loudon,  in  a  sharp, 
excited  tone ;  "  you  have  a  large  room,  while  in  my  hut  I  could 
scarcely  find  accommodation  for  you  and  your  adjutants. " 

"You  come  exactly  at  the  right  hour,"  said  Soltikow,  with  a 
haughty  smile  ;  "you  see,  we  were  about  to  hold  a  council  of  war, 
and  consider  what  remains  to  be  done. " 

A  dark  and  scornful  expression  was  seen  in  Loudon's  counte- 
nance, and  his  eyes  rested  fiercely  upon  the  smiling  face  <5f  Soltikow. 

"  Impossible,  general !  you  could  not  have  held  a  council  of  war 
without  me, "  said  he,  angrily. 

"Oh,  be  composed,  general,"  said  Soltikow,  smiling,  "I  would, 
without  doubt,  have  informed  you  immediately  of  our  conclusions. " 

"  I  suppose  you  could  not  possibly  have  come  to  any  conclusion 
in  my  absence,"  said  Loudon,  the  veins  in  whose  forehead  began 
to  swell. 

Soltikow  bowed  low,  wth  the  same  unchanged  and  insolent  smile. 

"  Let  us  not  dispute  about  things  which  have  not  yet  taken  place, 
your  excellency.  The  council  of  war  had  not  commenced,  but  now 
that  you  are  here,  we  may  begin.  Allow  me,  however,  first  to  sign 
these  despatches  which  I  have  written  to  my  gracious  sovereign, 
announcing  the  victory  which  the  Russian  troojis  have  this  day 
achieved  over  the  army  of  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

"Ah,  general^  this  time  I  am  in  advance  of  you,"  cried  Loudon ; 
"the  dispatches  are  already  sent  off  in  which  I  announced  to  my 
empress  the  victory  which  the  Austrian  troops  gained  over  tlie 
I*russian8. " 

Soltikow  threw  his  head  back  scornfully,  and  his  little  gray  eyes 
flashed  at  the  Austrian. 

Ix)udon  went  on,  calmly:  "I  assure  your  excellency  that  enthu- 
siasm at  our  glorious  victory  has  made  me  eloquent.  I  pictured  to 
my  empress  the  picturesque  moment  in  which  the  conquering  Prus 


THE  RIGHT  COUNSEL.  351 

sians  were  rushing  forward  to  take  possession  of  the  batteries  de- 
serted by  the  flying  Russians,  at  which  time  the  Austrian  horsemen 
sprang,  as  it  were,  from  the  ground,  checked  the  conquerors,  and 
forced  them  back ;  and  by  deeds  of  lionlike  courage  changed  the 
fate  of  the  day. " 

While  Loudon,  seeming  entirely  cool  and  careless,  thus  spoke, 
the  face  of  the  Russian  general  was  lurid  with  rage.  Panting  for 
breath,  he  pressed  his  doubled  fist  upon  the  table. 

Every  one  looked  at  him  in  breathless  excitement  and  horror — 
all  knew  his  passionate  and  unrestrained  rage.  But  the  Marquis 
Montalembert  hastened  to  prevent  this  outbui-st  of  passion,  and  be- 
fore Soltikow  found  breath  to  speak,  he  turned  with  a  gay  and  con- 
ciliating expression  to  Loudon. 

"If  you  have  painted  the  battle  of  to-day  so  much  in  detail," 
said  he,  "  you  have  certainly  not  forgotten  to  depict  the  gallant  con- 
duct of  the  Russian  troops  to  describe  that  truly  exalted  movement, 
Avhen  the  Russians  threw  themselves  to  the  earth,  as  if  dead,  before 
advancing  colmnns  of  the  Pnossian  army,  and  allowed  them  to  pass 
over  them  ;  then,  springing  up,  shot  them  in  the  back . "  * 

"Certainly  I  did  not  forget  that,"  said  Loudon,  whose  noble, 
generous  heart  already  repented  his  momentary  passion  and  jeal- 
ousy; "certainly,  I  am  not  so  cowardly  and  so  unconscionable  as 
to  deny  the  weighty  share  which  the  Russian  army  merit  in  the 
honor  of  this  day  ;  but  you  can  well  understand  that  I  will  not  allow 
the  gallant  deeds  of  the  Austrians  to  be  swept  away.  "We  have 
fought  together  and  conquered  together,  and  now  let  us  rejoice  to- 
gether over  the  glorious  result. " 

Loudon  gave  his  hand  to  Soltikow  with  so  friendly  an  expresRion 
that  he  could  not  withstand  it.  "You  are  right,  Loudon;  we  will 
rejoice  together  over  this  great  victory,"  cried  he.  ""Wine,  here! 
We  will  first  drink  a  glass  in  honor  of  the  triumph  of  the  day  ;  then 
we  will  empty  a  glass  of  your  beautiful  Rhine  wine  to  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Austrians  and  Russians.  Wine  here  !  The  night  is  long 
enough  for  council ;  let  us  first  celebrate  our  victoiy. " 

The  Cossacks,  at  a  sign  from  the  adjutants,  sprang  from  the  floor 
and  drew  from  a  comer  of  the  room  a  number  of  bottles  and  silver 
cups,  which  they  hastened  to  place  upon  the  table.  Tlie  secretaries 
moved  the  papers,  maps,  etc.  ;  and  the  table,  which  a  moment  be- 
fore had  quite  a  business  like  aspect,  was  now  changed  into  an 
enticing  buffet. 

Soltikow  looked  on  enraptured,  but  the  marquis  cast  an  anxious 
and  significant  look  upon  the  Austrian  general,  which  was  answered 
with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shouldei*s.     Both  knew  that  the  brav§ 
*  Archeaboltz,  §even  Y?a!«'  Wim^,  p.  ^f?", 


352        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

General  Soltikow,  next  to  the  thunder  of  cannon  and  the  mad  whirl 
of  battle,  loved  nothing  so  well  as  the  springing  of  corks  and  the 
odor  of  wine.  Both  knew  that  the  general  was  as  valiant  and  un- 
conquerable a  soldier  as  he  was  a  valiant  and  unconquerable  drinker 
— who  was  most  apt  while  drinking  to  forget  every  thing  else  but 
the  gladness  of  the  moment.  The  marquis  tried  to  make  another 
weak  attempt  to  remind  him  of  more  earaest  duties. 

"Look  you,  your  excellency,  your  secretaries  appear  very  melan- 
choly. Will  you  not  first  hold  a  council  of  war?  and  we  can  then 
give  ourselves  undisturbed  to  joy  and  enjoyment. " 

"Why  is  a  council  of  war  necessary?"  said  Soltikow,  sinking 
down  into  a  chair  and  handing  his  cup  to  the  Cossack  behind  him 
to  be  filled  for  the  second  time.  "  Away  with  business  and  scrib- 
bling I  The  dispatches  to  my  empress  are  completed ;  seal  them, 
Pietrowitch,  and  send  the  courier  oflf  immediately  ;  everything  elsa 
can  wait  till  morning.  Come,  generals,  let  us  strike  our  glasses  to 
the  healths  of  our  exalted  sovereigns. " 

Loudon  took  the  cup  and  drank  a  brave  pledge,  then  when  he  had 
emptied  the  glass  he  said  :  "  We  should  not  be  satisfied  with  sending 
our  exalted  sovereigns  the  news  of  the  day's  victory — it  lies  in  our 
hands  to  inform  them  of  the  complete  and  irrevocable  defeat  of  the 
enemy. " 

"How  so?"  said  Soltikow,  filling  up  his  cup  for  ttie  third 
time. 

"If  now,  in  place  of  enjoying  this  comfortable  rest,  and  giving 
our  enemy  time  to  recover  himself,  we  should  follow  up  the  Prus- 
sians and  cut  off  the  king's  retreat,  preventing  him  from  taking 
possession  of  his  old  camp  at  Reutven,  we  would  then  be  in  a  con- 
dition to  crush  him  completely  and  put  an  end  to  this  war. " 

"  Ah,  you  mean  that  we  should  break  up  the  camp  at  once, "  said 
Soltikow  ;  "  that  we  should  not  grant  to  our  x)oor,  exhausted  soldiers 
a  single  hour  of  sleep,  but  lead  them  out  again  to  battle  and  to 
death?  No,  no,  sir  general;  the  blood  of  my  brave  Russians  is 
worth  as  much  as  the  blood  of  other  men,  and  I  will  not  make  of 
them  a  wall  behind  which  the  noble  Dutchmen  place  themselves  in 
comfortable  security,  while  we  offer  up  for  them  our  blood  and  our 
life.  I  think  we  Russians  have  done  enough ;  we  do  not  need 
another  victory  to  prove  that  we  are  brave.  When  I  fight  another 
such  battle  as  I  have  fought  to-day,  with  my  staff  in  my  hand  and 
alone  I  must  carry  the  news  to  Petersburg,  for  I  shall  have  no  sol- 
diers left.*  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  you,  General  Loudon. 
You  have  been  a  faithful  ally  ;  we  have  fought,  bled,  and  conquered 
together,  although  not  protected  by  a  consecrated  hat  and  sword  like 
f  "  fj^crlc^  ^e  Great. "— Geechow,  p.  309, 


THE  RIGHT  COUNSEL.  353 

Field-Marshal  Daun,  who  ever  demands  new  victories  from  ub  while 
he  himself  is  midecided  and  completely  inactive. " 

"Your  excellency  seems  to  be  somewhat  embittered  against 
Daun, "  said  Loudon,  with  a  smile  he  could  not  wholly  suppress. 

"Yes,"  said  Soltikow,  "I  am  embittered  against  this  modern 
Fabius  Cunctator,  who  finds  it  so  easy  to  become  renowned — who 
remains  in  Vienna  and  reaps  the  harvest  which  belongs  rightly  to 
you,  General  Loudon.  You  act,  while  he  hesitates — you  are  full  of 
energy  and  ever  ready  for  the  strife ;  Daun  is  dilatoiy,  and  while 
he  is  resolving  whether  to  strike  or  not,  the  opportunity  is  lost." 

"  The  empress,  my  exalted  sovereign,  has  honored  him  with  her 
especial  confidence, "  said  I^oudon  ;  "  he  must  therefore  merit  it. " 

"Yes;  and  in  Vienna  they  have  honored  you  and  myself  with 
their  especial  distrust, "  said  Soltikow,  stormily,  and  swallowing  a 
full  cup  of  wine.  "You,  I  know,  receive  rare  and  scanty  praise ; 
eulogies  must  be  reserved  for  Daun.  We  are  regarded  with  inimi- 
cal and  jealous  eyes,  and  our  zeal  and  our  good-will  are  forever 
suspected. " 

"This  is  true,"  said  Loudon,  smiling;  "it  is  diflScult  for  us  to 
believe  in  the  sincere  friendship  of  the  Russians,  perhaps,  because 
we  Bo  earnestly  desire  it." 

"Words,  words!"  said  Soltikow,  angrily.  "The  German  has 
ever  a  secret  aversion  to  the  Russian — you  look  upon  us  as  disguised 
tigers,  ever  ready  to  rob  and  devour  your  glorious  culture  and 
accomplishments.  For  this  reason  you  gladly  place  a  glass  shade 
over  yom'selves  when  we  are  in  your  neighborhood,  and  show  us 
your  glory  through  a  transparent  wall  that  we  may  admire  and  envy. 
When  you  are  living  in  peace  and  harmony,  you  avoid  us  sedulously  ; 
then  the  German  finds  himself  entirely  too  educated,  too  refined, 
for  the  barbaric  Russian.  But  when  you  quarrel  and  strive  with 
each  other,  and  cannot  lay  the  storm,  then  you  suddenly  remember 
that  the  Russian  is  your  neighbor  and  friend,  that  he  wields  a  good 
sword,  and  knows  how  to  hew  away  with  it  right  and  left.  You 
call  lustily  on  him  for  help,  and  offer  him  your  friendship — that 
means,  just  so  long  as  hostilities  endure  and  you  have  use  for  us. 
Even  when  you  call  us  your  friends  you  distrust  us  and  suspect  our 
good-will.  Constant  charges  are  brought  against  us  in  Vienna. 
Spresain  languishes  in  chains — Austria  charges  him  with  treachery 
and  want  of  zeal  in  the  good  cause  ;  Fermor  and  Butterlin  are  also 
accused  of  great  crimes — they  have  sought  to  make  both  their  sin- 
cerity and  ability  suspected  by  the  empress,  and  to  bring  them  into 
reproach.  This  they  have  not  deserved.'  I  know,  also,  that  they 
have  charged  me  with  disinclination  to  assist  the  allies — they  de- 

clar?  that  I  hav9  iio  m^ot  toj  th?  Qproropg  9ftvif??-    Tim  wskes  bad 


354        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

blood,  messieurs  ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  excellent  wine  in  your 
beautiful  Germany,  I  doubt  if  our  friendship  would  stand  upon  a 
sure  footing.  Therefore,  sir  general,  take  your  cup  and  let  us  drink 
together — drink  this  glorious  wine  to  the  health  of  our  friendship. 
Make  your  glasses  ring,  messieurs,  and  that  the  general  may  see 
that  we  mean  honorably  with  our  toast,  empty  them  at  a  draught." 

Thej'  all  accepted  the  challenge  and  emptied  a  cup  of  the  old, 
fiery  Rhine  wine,  which  Soltikow  so  dearly  loved  ;  their  eyes  flashed, 
their  cheeks  were  glowing. 

Loudon  saw  this  with  horror,  and  he  cast  an  anxious  glance  at 
Montalembert,  who  returned  it  with  a  significant  shrug  of  the 
shoulder. 

"And  now,  your  excellency,"  said  Loudon,  "that  we  have  en- 
joyed the  German  wine,  let  us  think  a  little  of  Germany  and  the 
enemy  who  can  no  longer  disturb  her  peace,  if  we  act  promptly. 
Our  troops  have  had  some  hours'  rest,  and  will  now  be  in  a  condi- 
tion to  advance. " 

"Alwaj's  the  same  old  song,  "said  Soltikow,  laughing;  "but  I 
shall  not  be  waked  up  from  my  comfortable  quarters  ;  I  have  done 
enough  !  my  troops  also. " 

"  I  have  just  received  a  courier  from  Daun, "  said  Loudon,  softly  ; 
"  he  makes  it  my  duty  to  entreat  your  excellency  to  follow  up  our 
victory  and  crush  tlie  enemy  completely." 

"That  will  be  easy  work,"  said  Montalembert,  in  a  flattering 
tone.  "The  army  of  the  King  of  Prussia  is  scattered  and  flying  in 
every  direction ;  they  must  be  prevented  from  reassembling ;  the 
scattering  troops  must  be  harassed  and  more  widely  separated,  and 
everj'  possibility  of  retreat  cut  off  for  J'rederick." 

"Well,  well,  if  that  must  be,"  said  Soltikow,  apathetically,  plac- 
ing the  cup  just  filled  with  wine  to  his  lips,  "let  Field-Marshal 
Daun  undertake  the  duty.  I  have  won  two  battles  ;  I  will  wait  and 
rest ;  I  make  no  other  movements  till  1  hear  of  two  victories  won  by 
Daun.  It  is  not  reasonable  or  just  for  tlie  troops  of  my  empress  to 
act  alone. "  * 

"But. "said  the  Marquis  Montalembert,  giving  himself  the  ap- 
pearance of  wishing  not  to  be  heard  by  Loudon,  "  if  your  excellency 
now  remains  inactive  and  does  not  press  foi-ward  vigorously,  the 
Austrians  alone  will  reap  the  fniits  of  your  victory. " 

"I  am  not  at  all  disposed  to  be  jealous,"  said  Soltikow,  laughing ; 
"from  my  heart  I  wish  the  Austrians  more  success  than  I  have  had. 
For  my  part,  I  have  done  enough,  f  Fill  your  glasses,  messieurs, 
fill  your  glasses !    We  have  won  a  few  hours  of  happiness  from  the 

*  Soltikow's  own  words.— See  Arcbenboltz,  p.  ?^, 
tHiBtprJ9«l, 


THE  RIGHT  COUNSEL.  365 

goddess  Bellona ;  let  us  enjoy  them  and  forget  all  our  cares.  Let  us 
drink  once  more,  gentlemen.  Long  live  our  charming  mistress, 
the  Empress  Elizabeth  !"  The  Russian  officers  clanged  their  glasses 
and  chimed  in  zealously,  and  the  fragrant  Rhine  wine  bubbled  like 
foaming  gold  in  the  silver  cups.  Soltikow  swallowed  it  with  ever- 
increasing  delight,  and  he  became  more  and  more  animated. 

The  officers  sat  round  the  table  with  glowing  cheeks  and  listened 
to  their  worshipped  general  who,  in  innocent  gayety,  related  some 
scenes  from  his  youth,  and  made  his  heai-ers  laugli  so  loud,  so  rap- 
turously, that  the  walls  trembled,  and  Fritz  Kober,  who  was  crouch- 
ing down  in  the  bushes,  could  with  difficulty  prevent  himself  from 
joining  in  heartily. 

The  gayety  of  the  Russians  became  more  impetuous  and  un- 
bridled. They  dreamed  of  their  home ;  here  and  there  they  be- 
gan to  sing  Russian  love-songs.  The  Cossacks,  on  the  floor,  grinned 
with  delight  and  hummed  lightly  the  refrain. 

The  wine  began  to  exercise  its  freedom  and  equality  principles 
upon  the  heart,  and  all  difference  of  rank  was  forgotten.  Every 
countenance  beamed  with  delight ;  every  man  laughed  and  jested, 
sang  and  drank.  No  one  thought  of  the  King  of  Prussia  and  his 
scattered  army ;  they  remembered  the  victory  they  had  achieved, 
but  the  fragrant  wine  banished  the  remembrance  of  the  conquered.* 

Montalembert  and  Loudon  took  no  part  in  the  general  mirth. 
They  had  left  the  table,  and  from  an  open  window  watched  the  wild 
and  frenzied  group. 

"It  is  in  vain, "  whispered  Loudon,  "we  cannot  influence  him. 
The  German  wine  lies  neai-er  his  heart  than  his  German  allies. " 

"  But  you,  general,  you  should  do  what  Soltikow  omits  or  neglects. 
You  should  draw  your  own  advantage  from  this  tardiness  of  the 
Russian  general,  and  pursue  and  crush  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

"  I  would  not  be  here  now, "  said  Loudon,  painfully,  "  if  I  could 
do  that.  My  hands  are  bound.  I  dare  not  undertake  any  thing  to 
which  the  allies  do  not  agree  ;  we  can  only  act  in  concert. " 

A  loud  roar  of  laughter  from  the  table  silenced  the  two  gentle- 
men. Soltikow  had  just  related  a  merry  anecdote,  which  made  the 
Cossacks  laugh  aloud.  One  of  the  Russian  generals  rewarded  them 
by  throwing  them  two  tallow -candles.  This  dainty  little  delicacy 
was  received  by  them  with  joyful  shouts. 

"Let  us  withdraw,"  whispered  Montalembert,  "the  scene  be- 
comes too  Russian. " 

"  Yes,  let  us  go, "  sighed  Loudon  ;  "  if  we  must  remain  here  in- 
active, we  can  at  least  employ  the  time  in  sleep. " 

No  one  remarked  the  withdrawal  of  tlie  two  gentlemen.  The 
*See  Prussia;  Frederick  the  Great.— Oehliard,  p.  73. 


356       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

gay  laughter,  the  drinking  and  singing  went  on  undisturbed,  and 
soon  became  a  scene  of  wild  and  druken  confusion. 

"We  can  now  also  withdraw,"  whispered  Charles  Henry  to  Fritz 
Kober.     "  Come,  come  !  you  know  we  are  expected. " 

With  every  possible  caution,  they  hastened  away,  and  only  after 
they  had  left  the  camp  of  the  Russians  and  Austrians  far  behind 
them,  and  passed  again  over  the  battle-field  did  Fritz  Kober  break 
silence.  "Well,"  said  he,  sighing,  "what  have  we  to  say  to  the 
king?" 

"  All  that  we  have  heard, "  said  Charles  Henry. 

"  Yes,  but  we  have  heard  nothing, "  murmiu^d  Fritz.  "  I  opened 
my  ears  as  wide  as  possible,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Is  it  not  base 
and  vile  to  come  to  Germany  and  speak  this  gibberish,  not  a  word 
of  which  can  be  understood?  In  Germany  men  should  be  obliged  to 
speak  German,  and  not  Russian." 

"  They  did  not  speak  Russian,  but  French, "  said  Charles  Henry  ; 
"  I  understood  it  all. " 

Fritz  Kober  stopped  suddenly,  and  stared  at  his  friend.  "  You 
say  you  understood  French  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  was  at  home  on  the  French  borders.  My  mother  was 
from  Alsace,  and  there  I  learned  French. " 

"  You  understand  every  thing, "  murmured  Fritz,  "  but  for  my- 
self, I  am  a  poor  stupid  blockhead,  and  the  king  will  laugh  at  me, 
for  I  have  nothing  to  tell.     I  shall  not  get  my  commission. " 

"Then  neither  will  I,  Fritz;  and,  besides,  as  to  what  we  have 
seen,  you  have  as  much  to  tell  as  I.  You  heard  with  your  eyes  and 
I  with  my  ears,  and  the  great  point  arrived  at  you  know  as  much 
about  as  I  do.  The  Russians  and  Austrians  are  sleeping  quietly, 
not  tliinking  of  pursuing  us.     Tliat's  the  principal  point. " 

"Yes,  that's  true;  that  I  can  also  assure  the  king — that  will 
please  him  best.  Look  !  Charles  Henry,  the  day  is  breaking  I  Let 
lis  hasten  on  to  the  king.  When  he  knows  that  the  Austrians  and 
Russians  sleep,  he  will  think  it  high  time  for  the  Prussians  to  be 
awake. " 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A    HERO    IN    MISFORTUNE. 

The  two  grenadiers  returned  unharmed  to  the  village  where  the 
king  had  at  present  established  his  headquarters.  The  first  rays  of 
the  morning  sun  were  falling  upon  the  wretched  hut  which  was 
occupied  by  his  majesty.  The  peaceful  morning  quiet  was  unbroken 
by  the  faintest  sound,  and,  as  if  Nature  had  a  certain  reverence  for 
tbe  hero's  slxuuber,  even  the  birds  were  hushed,  and  the  morning 


A  HERO  IN  MISFORTUNE.  357 

breeze  blew  softly  against  the  little  window,  as  if  it  would  murmur 
a  sleeping  song  to  the  king.  There  were  no  sentinels  before  the 
door;  the  bright  morning  sun  alone  was  guarding  the  holy  place 
where  the  unfortunate  hero  reposed. 

Lightly,  and  with  bated  breath,  the  two  grenadiers  crept  into  the 
open  hut.  The  utter  silence  disturbed  them.  It  seemed  incredible 
that  they  should  find  the  king  in  this  miserable  place,  alone  and 
unguarded.  They  thought  of  the  hordes  of  Cossacks  which  infested 
that  region,  and  that  a  dozen  of  them  would  suffice  to  surround  this 
little  hut,  and  make  prisoners  of  the  king  and  his  adjutants. 

"I  have  not  the  courage  to  open  the  door,"  whispered  Fritz 
Kober.  "  I  fear  that  the  king  is  no  longer  here.  The  Cossacks  have 
captured  him. " 

"  Grod  has  not  permitted  that, "  said  Charles  Henry,  solemnly  ;  "  I 
believe  that  He  has  guarded  the  king  in  our  absence.  Come,  we 
will  go  to  his  majesty. " 

They  opened  the  door  and  entered,  and  then  both  stood  motion- 
less, awed  and  arrested  by  what  they  beheld. 

There,  on  the  straw  that  was  scantily  scattered  on  the  dirty  floor, 
lay  the  king,  his  hat  drawn  partially  over  his  face,  his  imsheathed 
sword  in  his  hand,  sleeping  as  quietly  as  if  he  were  at  his  bright 
and  beautiful  Sans-Souci. 

"  Look !"  whispered  Charles  Henry ;  "  thus  sleeps  a  king,  over 
whom  God  watches !    ©ut  now  we  must  awaken  him. " 

He  advanced  .to  the  king,  and  kneeling  beside  him,  whispered : 
"  Your  majesty,  we  have  returned ;  we  bring  intelligence  of  the 
Russians  and  AuBtrJans." 

The  king  arose  slowly,  and  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  brow. 

"Good  or  bad  news?"  he  asked. 

"  Good  news  !"  said  Fritz.  "  The  Austrians  and  Russians  have 
both  gone  to  bed  ;  they  were  sleepy. " 

"  And  they  have  no  idea  of  pursuing  your  majesty, "  continued 
Charles  Henry.  "  Loudon  wished  it,  but  Soltikow  refused  ;  he  will 
do  nothing  until  Daun  acts. " 

"  So  you  sat  with  them  in  the  council  of  war?"  asked  the  king, 
smiling. 

"  Yes,  we  were  present, "  said  Fritz  Kober,  with  evident  delight ; 
"  I  saw  the  council,  and  Charles  Henry  heard  them. " 

The  king  stood  up.  "You  speak  too  loud!"  he  said  ;  "you  will 
waken  these  two  gentlemen,  who  are  sleeping  so  well.  We  will  go 
outside,  and  you  can  continue  your  report. " 

He  crossed  the  room  noiselessly,  and  left  the  hut.  Then  seating 
himself  before  the  door,  on  a  small  bench,  he  told  the  two  grena- 
dP-rs  to  give  him  an  exact  account  of  ^vhnt  they  had  seen  and  heard. 

Long  after  tfa«y  had  flaiih, d  speaking,  th»  king  Mt  •ileat<  wad 


368        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

apparently  lost  in  thought.  His  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  he  seemed  to 
be  in  holy  communion  with  the  Almighty.  As  his  eyes  slowly 
sank,  his  glance  fell  upon  the  two  gi'enadiers  who  stood  before  him, 
silently  respectful. 

"I  am  pleased  with  you,  children,  and  this  time  the  promise 
shall  be  kept.     You  shall  become  subordinate  officers." 

"  In  the  same  company  ?"  asked  Fritz  Kober. 

"In  the  same  company.  That  is,"  continued  the  king,  "if  I 
am  ever  able  to  form  companies  and  regiments  again. " 

"We  are  not  so  badly  off  as  your  majesty  thinks,"  said  Fritz 
Kober.  "  Our  troops  have  already  recovered  from  their  first  terror, 
and  as  we  returned  we  saw  numbers  of  them  entering  the  village. 
In  a  few  hours  the  army  can  be  reorganized. " 

"God  grant  that  you  may  be  right,  my  son!"  said  the  king, 
kindly.  "Gro,  now,  into  the  village,  and  repeat  the  news  you 
brought  me  to  the  soldiers.  It  will  encourage  them  to  hear  that  the 
enemy  sleep,  and  do  not  think  of  pursuing  us.  I  will  prepare  youi* 
commissions  for  you  to-day.     Farewell,  my  children  !" 

He  bent  his  head  slightly,  and  then  turned  to  reenter  the  hut  and 
awaken  his  two  adjutants.  With  a  calm  voice  he  commanded  them 
to  go  into  the  village,  and  order  the  generals  and  higher  officers  to 
assemble  the  remnants  of  their  regiments  before  the  hut. 

"  A  general  march  must  be  sounded, "  said  the  king.  "  The  morn- 
ing air  will  bear  the  sound  into  the  distance,  and  when  my  soldiers 
hear  it,  perhaps  they  will  return  to  their  colors. " 

When  the  adjutants  left  him,  the  king  commenced  pacing  slowly 
up  and  down,  his  hands  crossed  behind  him. 

"All  is  lost,  all  1"  he  murmured;  "but  I  must  wait  and  watch. 
If  the  stupidity  or  rashness  of  the  enemy  should  break  a  mesh  in  the 
net  within  which  I  am  enclosed,  it  is  my  duty  to  slip  through  with 
my  arpiy.  Ah  !  how  heavily  this  crown  presses  upon  my  head  ;  it 
leaves  me  no  moment  of  repose.  How  hard  is  life,  and  how  terribly 
are  the  bright  illusions  of  our  earlier  years  destroyed  !" 

At  the  sound  of  the  drum,  the  king  shivered,  and  murmured  to 
himself :  "  I  feel  now,  what  I  never  thought  to  feel.  I  am  afraid 
my  heart  trembles  at  the  thought  of  this  encounter,  as  it  never  did 
in  battle.  The  drums  and  trumpets  call  my  soldiers,  but  they  will 
not  come.  They  are  stretched  upon  the  field  of  battle,  or  fleeing 
before  the  enemy.  They  will  not  come,  and  the  sun  will  witness 
my  shame  and  wretchedness. " 

The  king,  completely  overcome,  sank  upon  the  bench,  and  buried 
Viis  face  in  his  hands.  He  sat  thus  for  a  long  time.  The  sounds 
before  the  door  became  louder  and  louder,  but  the  king  heard  them 
not;  he  still  held  his  hands  befoie  his  face.     He  could  not  see  the 

t^right  axray  of  imifwms  tU»t  had  aa^embl^d  More  tb©  window, 


A  HERO  IN  MISFORTUNE.  35d 

nor  that  the  soldiers  were  swarming  in  from  all  sides.  He  did  not 
hear  the  beating  of  drums,  the  orders  to  the  soldiers,  or  military 
signals.  Neither  did  he  hear  the  door,  which  was  gently  opened  by 
his  adjutants,  who  had  returned  to  infonn  him  that  his  orders  had 
been  oTaeyed,  and  that  the  generals  and  staff  officers  were  awaiting 
him  outside  the  hut. 

"Sire,"  whispered  at  length  one  of  the  adjutants,  "your  com- 
mands have  been  fulfilled.  The  generals  await  your  majesty's 
pleasure. " 

The  king  allowed  his  hands  to  glide  slowly  from  his  face.  "  And 
the  troops?"  he  asked. 

"They  are  beginning  to  form." 

"  They  are  also  just  placing  the  cannon, "  said  the  second  adjutant. 

The  king  turned  angrily  to  him.  "Sir,"  he  cried,  "you  lie  I  I 
have  no  cannon. " 

"  Your  majesty  has,  God  be  praised,  more  than  fifty  cannon, "  said 
the  adjutant,  firmly. 

A  ray  of  light  overspread  the  countenance  of  the  king,  and  a 
slight  flush  arose  to  his  pale  cheek.  Standing  up,  he  bowed  kindly 
to  the  adjutants,  and  passed  out  among  the  generals,  who  saluted 
him  respectfully,  and  pressed  back  to  make  way  for  their  king. 
The  king  walked  silently  through  their  ranks,  and  then  turning  his 
head,  he  said : 

"Gentlemen,  let  us  see  what  yesterday  has  left  us.  Assemble 
your  troops. " 

The  generals  and  staff  officers  hurried  silently  away,  to  place 
themselves  at  the  head  of  their  regiments,  and  lead  them  before  the 
king. 

The  king  stood  upright,  his  unsheathed  sword  in  his  right  hand, 
as  in  the  most  ceremonious  parade.  The  marching  of  the  troops  be- 
gan, but  it  \yas  a  sad  spectacle  for  their  king.  How  little  was  left 
of  the  great  and  glorious  army  which  he  had  led  yesterday  to  battle  ! 
More  than  twenty  thousand  men  were  either  killed  or  wounded. 
Thousands  were  flying  and  scattered.  A  few  regiments  had  been 
formed  with  great  trouble ;  barely  five  thousand  men  were  now 
assembled.  The  king  looked  on  with  a  firm  eye,  but  his  lips  were 
tightly  compressed,  and  his  breath  came  heavily.  Suddenly  he 
turned  to  Count  Dolmer,  the  adjutant  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand 
of  Brunswick,  who  had  arrived  a  few  days  before  with  the  intelli- 
gence of  a  victory  gained  at  Minden.  The  king  had  invited  him  to 
remain.  "  I  am  about  to  overpower  the  Russians ;  remain  until  I 
can  give  you  a  like  message. "  The  king  waa  reminded  of  this  as  he 
saw  the  count  near  him. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  with  a  troubled  smile,  "you  are  waiting  for  the 
message  I  promised.     I  am  distressed  that  I  cannot  make  you  the 


360       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

bearer  of  better  news.  If,  however,  you  arrive  safely  at  the  end  of 
your  journey,  and  do  not  find  Daun  already  in  Berlin,  and  Contades 
in  Magdeburg,  you  can  assure  the  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  from  me 
that  all  is  not  lost.     Farewell,  sir. " 

Then,  bowing  slightly,  he  advanced  with  a  firm  step  to  the  gen- 
erals. His  eyes  glowed  and  flashed  once  more,  and  his  whole  being 
reassumed  its  usual  bold  and  energetic  expression. 

"  Gentlemen, "  he  said,  in  a  clear  voice,  "  fortune  did  not  favor 
us  yesterday,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  despair.  A  day  will  come 
when  we  shall  repay  the  enemy  with  bloody  interest.  I  at  least  ex- 
pect such  a  day  ;  I  will  live  for  its  coming,  and  all  my  thoughts  and 
plans  shall  be  directed  toward  that  object.  I  strive  for  no  other 
glory  than  to  deliver  Prussia  from  the  conspiracy  into  which  the 
whole  of  Europe  has  entered  against  her.  I  will  obtain  peace  for 
my  native  land,  but  it  shall  be  a  great  and  honorable  peace.  I  will 
accept  no  other ;  I  would  rather  be  buried  under  the  ruins  of  my 
cannon,  than  accept  a  peace  that  would  bring  no  advantages  to 
Prussia,  no  fame  to  us.  Honor  is  the  highest,  the  holiest  possession 
of  individuals,  as  it  is  of  nations ;  and  Prussia,  who  has  placed 
her  honor  in  our  hands,  must  receive  it  from  us  pure  and  spotless. 
If  you  agi'ee  with  me,  gentlemen,  join  me  in  this  cry,  'Long  live 
Prussia  1    Long  live  Prussia's  honor  1'  " 

The  generals  and  oflScers  joined  enthusiastically  in  this  cry,  and 
like  a  mighty  torrent  it  spread  from  mouth  to  mouth,  until  it 
reached  the  regiments,  where  it  was  repeated  again  and  again.  The 
color-bearers  unfurled  their  tattered  banners,  and  the  shout  arose 
from  thousands  of  throats,  "  Long  live  Prussia's  honor !" 

The  king's  countenance  was  bright,  but  a  tear  seemed  to  glitter 
in  his  eye.     He  raised  his  glance  to  heaven  and  murmured  : 

"  I  swear  to  live  so  long  as  there  is  hope,  so  long  as  I  am  free  I  I 
swear  only  to  think  of  death  when  my  liberty  is  threatened." 
Slowly  his  glance  returned  to  earth,  and  then  in  a  powerful  voice, 
he  cried :  "Onward!  onward!  that  has  ever  been  Prussia's  watch- 
word, and  it  shall  remain  so — Onward  1  We  have  a  great  object  be 
fore  us — we  must  use  every  effort  to  keep  the  Russians  out  of  Berlin. 
The  palladium  of  our  happiness  must  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  our 
enemies.  Tlie  Oder  and  the  Spree  must  be  ours — we  must  recover 
to-morrow  what  the  enemy  wrenched  from  us  yesterday  i" 

"Onward!  onward!"  cried  the  army,  and  the  words  of  the  king 
bore  courage  and  enthusiasm  to  all  hearts. 

Hope  was  awakened,  and  all  were  ready  to  follow  the  king  ;  for 
however  dark  and  threatening  the  horizon  appeared,  all  had  faith 
in  the  star  of  the  king,  and  believed  that  it  could  never  be  extin- 
guished. 


BOOK  y. 


CHAPTER    I, 

THE  TERESIANI  AND  THK  PRUSSIANI. 

At  the  splendid  hotel  of  the  "White  Lion,"  situated  on  the 
Candle  Orande,  a  gondola  had  just  aiTived.  The  porter  sounded 
the  great  house -bell,  and  the  host  hastened  immediately  to  greet  the 
stranger,  who,  having  left  the  gondola,  was  briskly  mounting  the 
small  white  marble  steps  that  led  to  the  beautiful  and  sumptuous 
vestibule  of  the  hotel. 

The  stranger  returned  the  host's  profovmd  and  respectful  saluta- 
tion with  a  stiff  military  bow,  and  asked  in  forced  and  rather 
foreign  Italian  if  he  could  obtain  rooms. 

Signor  Montardo  gazed  at  him  with  a  doubtful  and  uncertain 
expression,  and  instead  of  answering  his  question,  said  : 

"Signor,  it  appears  to  me  that  you  are  a  foreigner?" 

"  Yes, "  said  the  stranger,  smiling,  "  my  Italian  has  betrayed  me. 
I  am  a  foreigner,  but  hope  that  will  not  prevent  your  showing  me 
comfortable  and  agreeable  rooms. " 

"  Certainly  not,  signor ;  our  most  elegant  and  sumptuous  apart- 
ment is  at  your  command, "  said  the  host,  with  a  flattering  smile. 
In  the  mean  time,  however,  he  did  not  move  from  the  spot,  but 
gazed  with  confused  and  anxious  countenance  first  at  the  stranger, 
and  then  at  his  large  trunk,  which  the  men  were  just  lifting  from 
the  gondola. 

"Will  you  please  show  me  the  rooms?"  cried  the  stranger,  impa- 
tiently advancing  into  the  hall. 

The  host  sighed  deeply,  and  threw  a  questioning  glance  at  the 
head  waiter,  who  returned  it  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"I  will  first  show  you  into  the  dining-saloon,"  mmmured  the 
host,  hastening  after  the  sti'auger.  "  Will  you  please  step  in  here, 
excellency?"  and  with  humble  submission  he  opened  the  large  fold- 
ing doors  before  which  they  stood,  and  conducted  the  stranger  into 
the  magnificent  saloon  which  served  as  dining-saloon  and  ball-room. 
"Now,  excellency,"  continued  the  host,  after  he  closed  the  door,  and 
had  convinced  himself  by  a  rapid  glance  that  they  were  alone, 
24 


362       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  forgive  my  curiosity  in  asking  you  two  questions  before  I  have  the 
lionor  of  showing  you  your  rooms.  How  long  do  you  intend  to  re- 
main here?" 

"A  few  days,  sir.     Well,  your  second  question?" 

The  host  hesitated  a  moment ;  then  looking  down,  he  said  : 

"  Your  excellency  is  a  German  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  German, "  said  the  stranger,  impatiently. 

"  I  thought  so, "  sighed  the  host. 

"Will  you  show  me  my  rooms  or  not?  Decide  quickly,  for  I 
know  there  are  other  handsome  hotels  on  the  Candle  Grande  where 
I  would  be  willingly  received." 

The  host  bowed  with  an  aggrieved  expression.  "Signer,  I  will 
show  you  rooms.     Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  follow  me  ?" 

Like  one  who  had  come  to  a  desperate  decision,  he  advanced  and 
pushed  open  a  door  which  led  to  a  long  passage,  with  rooms  on  each 
side ;  he  passed  them  all  hastily,  and  entered  a  small,  dark,  side- 
passage,  which  was  little  in  keeping  with  the  general  elegance  of 
the  building  ;  the  walls  were  not  covered  with  tapestry,  as  those  of 
the  large  halls,  but  with  dirty  whitewash  ;  the  floor  had  no  carpet, 
and  the  doors  of  the  rooms  were  low  and  small. 

The  host  opened  one  of  them  and  led  the  stranger  into  a  small, 
simply-furnished  room,  with  a  little  dark  closet  containing  a  bed. 

"Signor,"  he  said,  with  a  profound  bow,  "these  are,  unfortu- 
nately, the  only  two  rooms  I  can  offer  you. " 

"  Tliey  are  small  and  mean, "  said  the  stranger,  angrily. 

"  They  are  quiet  and  remote,  and  you  will  have  the  advantage  of 
not  being  disturbed  by  the  ball  which  the  club  of  the  Prussiani  are 
to  hold  in  my  grand  saloon  to-night. " 

As  he  finished,  he  looked  at  the  stranger  hastily  and  searchingly, 
to  see  what  impression  his  words  had  upon  him.  He  was  decidedly 
astonished  and  confused. 

"The  Prussian  Club?"  he  said.  "Are  there  so  many  Prussians 
here,  and  are  they  to  celebrate  a  gay  feast  when  it  appears  to  me 
they  have  every  reason  to  mourn  for  their  king's  misfortune?" 

It  was  now  the  stranger  who  gazed  searchingly  at  the  host,  and 
awaited  his  answer  with  impatience. 

"You  ask  if  there  are  many  Prussians  here?"  said  the  host,  pa- 
thetically. "  Yes,  there  are  a  great  many  in  la  hella  Venezia,  eccel- 
lenza,  ehi  nmi  e  biton  Prussiano,  non  e  biion  Veneziano.  You  say 
further,  that  the  Prussians  have  no  reason  to  celebrate  a  festival, 
but  should  mourn  for  their  king's  misfortunes.  No,  your  excel- 
lency, the  Prussians  will  never  have  reason  to  despair,  for  a  hero 
like  the  great  Fi-ederick  can  never  succumb.  His  sun  is  clouded  for 
a  moment,  but  it  will  burst  forth  again  brilliant  and  triumphant, 


THE  TERESIANI  AND  THE  PRUSSIANI.  363 

and  blind  all  his  enemies.  The  Prussians  celebrate  this  feast  to 
defy  the  Teresiani.  They  have  their  club  at  the  hotel  of  the  '  Golden 
Fleece, '  and  held  a  grand  ball  there  yesterday  in  honor  of  their  vic- 
tory at  Mayen.  'Tis  true  the  king  has  lost  two  battles,  the  battles  of 
Kiinersdorf  and  Mayen,  but  the  Prussians  do  not  despair ;  for  if  the 
king  has  lost  two  battles,  he  will  win  four  to  make  up  for  them,  and 
the  Austrians,  French,  and  Russians  will  flee  before  him,  as  they 
did  at  Zorndorf  and  Rossbach.  The  Prussians  wish  to  celebrate 
this  feast  tt>  convince  the  Teresiani  that  they  are  not  disturbed  by 
the  king's  apparent  misfortune,  and  are  now  celebrating  the  victo- 
ries that  their  great  king  is  still  to  achieve. " 

The  stranger's  face  beamed  with  delight.  "The  Prussians  have 
great  confidence  in  their  king, "  he  said,  with  forced  composure ; 
"  but  you  have  not  yet  told  me  why  so  many  Prussians  are  stopping 
here?" 

Tlie  host  laughed.  "  Signor  does  not  occupy  himself  with  poli- 
tics?" 

"  No, "  answered  the  stranger,  with  hesitation. 

"  Well,  otherwise  you  would  have  known  that  there  are  many 
Prussians  in  the  world,  and  that  all  the  world  takes  an  interest  in 
this  war  in  which  a  single  hero  battles  against  so  many  powerful 
enemies.  Yes,  yes,  there  are  Prussians  in  all  Europe,  and  the  great 
Frederick  is  joyfully  welcomed  everywhere  ;  but  nowhere  more  joy- 
fully than  in  our  beautiful  Italy  ;  and  nowhere  in  Italy  is  he  more 
welcomed  than  in  our  beautiful  Venice.  The  nobles  and  the  gondo- 
liers decide  for  or  against,  and  Venice  is  divided  into  two  great 
parties :  the  first  for  the  King  of  Prussia,  the  latter  for  the  Austrian 
empress,  Maria  Tlieresa.  But  I  assure  you  the  Teresiani  are  mean 
.and  despicable,  bought  enthusiasts,  and  cowardly  fools. " 

" CJonsequently,  you  do  not  belong  to  them,  signor,"  said  the 
stranger,  smiling ;  "  you  are  a  good  Prussiano. " 

"I  should  think  so,"  cried  the  host,  proudly;  "I  am  a  good  pa- 
triot, and  our  watchword  is,  '  Chi  non  e  buon  Prussiano,  non  e  buon 
Veneziano. '  " 

"  If  that  is  so, "  cried  the -stranger,  gayly,  as  he  kindly  offered  the 
host  his  hand,  "  I  congratulate  myself  for  having  stopped  here,  and 
these  small,  mean  rooms  will  not  prevent  my  remaining.  I  also  am 
a  Prussian,  and  say,  like  yourself,  what  care  we  for  the  battles  of 
Kflnersdorf  and  Jklayen  ?  Frederick  the  Great  will  still  triumph  over 
his  enemies. " 

"  Ah,  signor,  you  are  a  Prussian !"  cried  the  host,  with  a  true 
Italian  burst  of  joy.  "  You  are  heartily  welcome  at  my  hotel,  and 
be  convinced,  sir,  that  I  shall  do  every  thing  to  deserve  your  ap- 
prove,!,   Qpm^,  sir,  these  ropfflg  ar?  too  smaU,  too  meft??  for  »  fol' 


364       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

lower  of  Frederick  ;  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  showing  you  two  beau- 
tiful rooms  on  the  first  floor,  with  a  view  of  the  Canale  Grande,  and 
you  shall  pay  no  more  for  them.  Follow  me,  sir,  and  pardon  me 
that  you  were  not  at  once  worthily  sei-ved.  I  did  not  know  you 
were  a  Pnissiano,  and  it  would  have  been  most  dangerous  and  im- 
politic to  have  received  a.  stranger  who  might  have  been  a  Teresiano ; 
it  might  have  deprived  me  of  all  the  Prussian  custom.  Have  the 
goodness  to  follow  me. " 

He  stepped  forward  briskly,  and  conducted  the  stranger  across 
the  passage  through  the  grand  saloon  into  the  hall.  The  head  waiter 
was  standing  there  engaged  in  an  excited  conversation  with  the 
gondoliers  who,  having  placed  the  traveller's  trunk  in  the  hall,  were 
cursing  and  crying  aloud  for  their  money.  While  the  waiter  was 
assuring  them,  that  it  was  not  decided  whether  the  stranger  would 
remain  with  them  or  not,  and  perhaps  they  would  have  to  carry  his 
trunk  farther,  the  host  nodded  smilingly  at  the  head  waiter  and 
said,  proudly,  "His  excellency  is  not  only  a  German,  but  a  Prus- 
sian. " 

The  clouded  faces  of  the  waiters  and  gondoliers  cleared  immedi- 
ately, and  they  gazed  at  the  traveller  with  a  significant  smile  as  he 
mounted  the  splendid  steps  with  the  host. 

"He  is  a  Prussian !"  cried  the  waiters.  "Ewivail  Re  di  Prus- 
ttia!"  cried  the  gondoliers,  as  they  raised  the  trunk  and  carried  it 
nimbly  up  the  steps. 

The  saloon  into  which  the  host  conducted  his  guest  was  certainly 
different  from  the  small,  tmclean  rooms  he  had  shown  him  before. 
All  was  elegance,  and  with  a  feeling  of  pride  he  led  the  stranger  to 
the  balcony  which  offered  a  splendid  view  of  the  imposing  and 
glorious  Canale  Grande,  with  its  proud  churches  and  palaces. 

"  And  now,  signer, "  said  the  host,  humbly,  "  command  me.  If 
I  can  ^erve  you  in  any  manner,  I  shall  do  so  with  pleasure.  Any 
information  you  desire,  I  am  ready  to  give.  Perhaps  your  excel- 
lency has—?" 

"No,  "said  the  stranger,  quickly,  "I  have  no  political  mission, 
and  my  letter  to  the  prior  is  of  a  very  innocent  nature.  I  am  a 
merchant,  and  by  chance  have  become  possessed  of  several  costly 
relics,  and  hope  that  the  prior  of  the  cloister  may  purchase  them." 

"Ah,  relics,"  said  the  host,  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  his 
shoulders  ;  "  do  you  know,  sir,  that  no  one  now  is  enthusiaatic  about 
such  things?  Politics  leave  us  no  time  for  piety  ;  the  Pope  has  lost 
his  influence,  and  even  the  Romans  are  good  Prussiani,  and  care 
not  for  Frederick  tlie  Great  being  a  heretic.  The  Pope  blessee  his 
enemies  and  celebrates  their  victories  with  brilliant  mflssps  and 
costly  presents.     The  Romaue  are  indifferent  to  all  this,  and  pra/ 


THE  TERESUNl  AND  THE  PRUSSlANl.  365 

for  their  hero-king,  the  Great  Frederick,  and  in  spite  of  the  Pope 
desire  him  to  triumph." 

"Ah,"  said  the  traveller,  with  apparent  sadness,  "then  I  shall 
certainly  not  succeed  with  my  relics,  but  I  hope  I  shall  do  better  in 
the  city  with  my  fans ;  for  them  I  desire  your  advice.  Will  you 
please  tell  me  the  names  of  a  few  large  commercial  houses  where 
they  might  buy  some  of  my  beautiful  fans?  But  they  must  be  good 
Prussiani,  as  you  will  soon  see. "  He  stepped  to  his  trunk,  unlocked 
it,  and  took  from  it  an  etui  containing  a  number  of  fans. 

"Look  here,  sir.  I  saw  these  fans  in  Geneva,  and  thinking  I 
might  perhaps  do  a  good  business  with  them  in  Italy,  I  bought  sev- 
eral dozen.  Examine  the  charming  and  tasteful  paintings."  He 
opened  one  of  the  fans  ;  it  was  of  white  satin,  with  quite  an  artistic 
painting  of  a  large  Prussian  eagle  about  to  devour  a  white  lily. 

The  host  clapped  his  hands  with  delight.  "  Delicious  !"  he  cried, 
laughing.  "The  Prussian  eagle  devouring  the  French  lily;  this  is 
charming  prophecy,  a  wonderful  satire.  You  bought  these  fans  in 
Geneva  ;  there  are  Prussians  in  Geneva  also,  then. " 

"  Every  Lidy  in  Geneva  has  such  a  fan,  and  there  are  no  better 
Prussians  in  Berlin  than  in  Geneva. " 

"  I  am  delighted,  truly  delighted, "  cried  the  Italian,  enthusiasti- 
cally. "  The  time  will  come  when  all  the  people  of  Europe  will  be 
Prussians  and  only  princes  Teresiani. " 

"Nevertheless,  the  people  will  have  to  obey  their  princes, "  said 
the  stranger,  with  a  watchful  glance;  "and  if  they  command  it, 
will  war  against  the  great  king. " 

"  Not  we,  not  the  Italians, "  cried  the  host,  violently  ;  "  our  Doge 
would  not  dare  to  side  with  the  Teresiani,  for  he  knows  very  well 
that  would  occasion  a  revolution  in  Venice  and,  perhaps,  endanger 
his  own  throne.  No,  no,  signor ;  our  exalted  government  is  too 
wise  not  to  adopt  a  neutral  position,  while  secretly  they  are  as  good 
Prussians  as  we  are. " 

"  But  the  Lombardians  and  the  Sardinians?"  asked  the  stranger, 
expectantly. 

"  They  also  are  Prussians ;  even  if  their  king  is  a  Teresiano,  as 
they  say,  his  people  are  Prussians  like  ourselves. " 

"And  the  Neapolitans?" 

"  Well,  the  Neapolitans, "  said  the  host,  laughing,  "  the  Neapoli- 
tans are,  as  you  know,  not  renowned  for  their  bravery  ;  and  if  they 
do  not  love  the  great  Frederick,  they  fear  him.  The  Neapolitans 
are  the  children  of  Italy,  knowing  only  that  Naples  is  a  beautiful 
city,  and  fearing  a  barbarian  might  come  and  devour  it.  In  their 
terror  they  forget  that  no  one  is  thinking  of  them,  and  that  they  are 
separated  by  Italy  and  the  Alps  from  all  warlike  people.     The  king 


366       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

of  Naples  thinks  it  possible  that  Frederick  may  one  day  ascend 
Vesuvius  with  his  conquering  army  and  take  possession  of  Naples. 
Since  the  king's  last  victories,  Ferdinand  has  increased  the  number 
of  his  troops  and  doubled  the  guard  in  his  capital. " 

The  host  laughed  so  heartily  at  this  account,  that  the  stranger 
•was  irresistibly  compelled  to  join  him. 

"  The  King  of  Naples  is  but  a  boy  nine  years  old.  His  ministers 
are  older  than  himself,  and  should  know  a  little  more  geogi*aphy, 
signor.  But  corpo  di  Bacco,  here  I  am  talking  and  talking  of  poli- 
tics forgetting  entirely  that  your  excellency  is  doubtless  hungry, 
and  desires  a  strengthening  meal. " 

"  'Tis  true,  I  am  a  little  hungry,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling. 

"  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  most  splendid  dinner,  that  the  cele- 
brated White  Lion  can  prepare,  shall  be  ready  for  you,  signor," 
?ried  the  host,  as  he  rushed  hastily  from  the  room. 

Tlie  stranger  gazed  thoughtfully  after  him.  "It  appears  to  me 
that  I  have  been  very  fortunate  in  coming  here  ;  the  good  host  seems 
to  be  a  good  Prussian,  and  I  have  learned  more  from  him  in  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  than  I  would  have  done  in  a  long  journey  through 
Italy.  I  shall  now  be  able  to  act  with  zeal  and  energy.  But  I 
must  not  forget  the  r6le  I  have  to  play.  I  am  a  merchant  trading 
with  fans,  curiosities,  and  relics,  and  very  anxious  to  bring  my 
wares  to  market. " 

The  enti'ance  of  the  waiter  interrupted  him,  and  soon  the  savory 
dishes  invited  the  traveller  to  refresh  himself. 


CHAPTER    II, 

FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AS  A  SAINT. 

"  And  now  to  business, "  said  the  traveller,  when  he  had  finished 
dining.  "  It  is  high  time  I  were  on  my  way,  if  I  am  to  leave  this 
place  to-day. "  He  hastened  to  his  trunk  and  took  from  it  several 
bundles  and  packages,  some  of  which  he  put  in  his  pockets  and 
some,  like  a  true  merchant,  he  carried  under  his  arm.  Then  put- 
ting on  his  large,  black  felt  hat,  he  turned  to  leave  the  room.  In 
passing  the  mirror  he  looked  at  himself,  and  broke  out  into  a  merry 
laugh  at  his  appearance. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "I  look  like  a  veritable  shop-keeper,  and  he 
who  takes  me  for  any  thing  else,  must  be  of  a  more  political  turn  of 
mind  than  my  host,  Signor  Montardo,  the  Prussiano.'" 

He  turned  and  left  the  room  to  obtain  the  address  of  some  mer- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AS  A  SAINT.  367 

chants  and  a  guide  from  his  host.  In  spite  of  remonstrances  Signor 
Montardo  insisted  on  accompanj'ing  him. 

"Otherwise,"  said  he,  "some  one  might  address  you  who  is  not 
on  our  side,  and  if  you  were  then  to  show  him  your  fans,  there 
would  be  a  fearful  scandal ;  the  other  party  is  quite  as  hot-headed 
as  we  are,  and  many  a  pitched  battle  has  taken  place  between  the 
Teresiani  and  the  Prussiani.  Come,  sir ;  I  must  accompany  you. 
We  will  not  go  by  the  canal,  but  through  the  small  by-streets  ;  they 
will  lead  us  quickest  to  the  Riva  di  Schiavoni,  and  then  to  the  Rialto, 
which  is  our  destination. " 

"Is  that  far  from  the  convent  of  San  Giovanni  e  Paolo?"  asked 
the  stranger. 

"Ah,  you  are  still  determined  to  offer  your  relics  to  the  abbot?" 
said  the  host,  laughing. 

"Yes,  and  hope  to  sell  them. " 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  luck.  The  Rialto  is  not  far  from  there.  I 
will  go  with  you  until  within  the  vicinity  of  the  convent,  but  not 
farther. " 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Because  the  door-keeper  is  a  raging  Teresiano,  and  would  un- 
doubtedly close  the  door  in  your  face,  were  I  at  your  side. " 

"  But  did  you  not  tell  me  the  abbot  was  a  Prussianof  " 

"Yes,  the  abbot,  but  the  porter  is  not;  nor  are  many  of  the 
monks,  I  am  sorry  to  say. " 

"Ah,  even  the  monks  are  occupied  with  politics?" 

"  Signor, "  cried  the  host,  pathetically,  "  every  one  here  interests 
himself  in  politics  ;  and  when  you  hear  that  our  little  children  are 
divided  into  Teresiani  and  Prussiani,  you  will  credit  me.  There 
was  a  slight  revolution  yesterday  in  the  Riva  Peschiera.  It  was 
occasioned  by  a  fishwoman's  refusing  to  sell  my  cook  some  beauti- 
ful trout ;  she  declared  God  had  not  created  fich  for  the  Prussiani, 
which,  in  her  opinion,  was  another  name  for  heathen  andy  unbe- 
liever. My  cook  insisted  on  having  the  fish,  and,  as  unfortu^tely 
there  were  many  Pntssiani  among  the  fishwomen,  it  soon  came  to 
hard  words  and  still  harder  blows,  and  was  terminated  by  the  arrest 
of  the  principal  disturbers. " 

They  were  now  entering  the  Rivadi  Schiavoni,  and  the  talkative 
Signor  Montardo  was  continuing  his  merry  tales  when  he  was  in- 
temipted  by  cries  and  shouts  of  laughter  and  derision,  and  they 
were  almost  surrounded  by  a  large  crowd  of  excited  men. 

"We  are  fortunately  at  the  end  of  our  walk,"  said  Signor  Mon- 
tardo, "for  there  is  the  house  of  my  worthy  friend  Cicemachi, 
dealer  in  fancy  goods,  and  it  is  to  him  we  are  going.  Let  us  press 
fQj-ward  to  see  what  this  crpwd  me^ys.    J  presuffl?  my  friend 


368       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Cicemachi  has  prepared  another  surprise  for  the  good  people  of 
Venice. " 

He  made  a  way  for  himself  and  friend  with  his  broad  shoulders, 
and  soon  stood  in  front  of  the  shop  aroimd  which  the  crowd  was 
collected.  A  cry  of  astonishment  escaped  the  stranger,  and  he 
pointed  to  the  entrance  of  the  shop.  "  You  see  there, "  said  he,  "  a 
speaking  likeness  of  Frederick  the  Great. " 

There  hung  at  the  front  of  the  store  a  large  engraving  in  a  rich 
golden  frame.  It  was  the  portrait  of  Prussia's  hero  king — of  Fred- 
erick the  Great — and  beneath  burnt  a  bright  lamp,  its  light  shedding 
a  rosy  tint  over  Frederick's  noble  countenance. 

"  Ah  I  I  understand  it  now, "  whispered  the  host.  "  Cicemachi 
has  done  this  to  enrage  the  Teresiani.  To  show  his  boundless  rever- 
ence for  the  king,  he  has  placed  a  burning  lamp  beneath  his  picture, 
an  honor  due  only  in  our  country  to  the  saints.  Let  us  hear  what 
the  people  have  to  say  of  it. " 

Just  then  a,  Teresiano  commenced  a  speech,  accompanied  by  vio- 
lent gesticulations,  against  this  insult  to  the  Church.  "  How  can 
you  suffer  this  heretic  to  be  represented  by  you  as  a  saint?"  cried  he, 
in  a  voice  of  rage.  "  Do  you  not  know  that  the  Pope  has  excommu- 
nicated the  King  of  Prussia?  Do  you  not  know  that  he  is  an  enemy 
to  Grod,  to  the  Church,  and  to  our  holy  Catholic  religion?  Away, 
then,  with  this  lamp  I  The  fires  of  hell  wiU  devour  him,  but  no 
holy  lamp  shall  enlighten  his  darkened  soul. " 

"  He  is  right,  he  is  right, "  cried  some  among  the  crowd.  "  Away 
with  the  lamp  !  Break  Cicemachi 's  windows,  for  he  is  a  Prnssiano. 
He  makes  a  saint  of  a  heretic  1     Put  out  the  lamp !" 

"  Do  not  venture  to  touch  the  lamp, "  cried  others.  "  Back  !  back  ! 
or  our  fists  shall  close  your  eyes  until  neither  the  lamp  nor  the  great 
Frederick  is  visible  to  you. " 

"Put  out  the  lamp,  in  God's  name!"  cried  the  infuriated  Tere 
siani.  And  the  cry  was  repeated  by  many  of  his  party,  as  they 
pressed  forward.  But  the  Prussiani,  amongst  whom  were  our  host 
and  the  stranger,  had  alreadj'  formed  a  wall  of  defence  before  the 
store,  and  were  energetically  beating  back  the  approaching  Tere- 
siani. And  then  there  occurred  a  tumult,  such  as  can  only  occur 
among  passionate  Italians.  Wild  shouts,  curses,  and  threats  were 
heard — eyes  sparkling  with  rage,  doubled  fists,  and  here  and  there  a 
dagger  or  a  knife  was  seen. 

But  the  noise  suddenly  ceased,  and  a  deep  stillness  prevailed. 
No  soimd  was  heard  but  the  quiet  even  tread  of  the  solemn  silent 
forms  that  stood  suddenly,  as  if  they  had  risen  from  the  earth  in 
their  midst.  No  one  had  seen  them  come — no  word  was  spoken  by 
^\i^m,  imd  still  roaJiy  retreated  timidlj^,  fearfully  ftoip  them :  th^ir 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AS  A  SAINT.  369 

presence  was  enough  to  quiet  these  enraged  masses,  to  silence  their 
anger.  Even  Signor  Montardo  deserted  his  prominent  position  be- 
fore the  lamp,  and  was  gazing  anxiously  at  the  dark  forms  passing 
slowly  through  the  crowd. 

"  The  sbirri !"  whispered  he  to  the  stranger.  "  The  servants  of 
the  Council  of  Ten  !    Whom  will  they  take  with  them?" 

But  it  seemed  as  if  these  much-feared  men  only  desired  to  cause 
the  people  to  remember  them  only,  to  threaten — not  to  punish. 
They  wished  to  remind  the  people  that  the  law  was  watching  over 
them.  Completely  hid  by  their  long  mantles,  they  passed  with 
bowed  heads  through  the  crowd.  Thus  without  addressing  or  notic- 
ing any  one,  they  passed  into  one  of  the  small  by-streets  leading 
from  the  Rialto. 

As  the  last  one  disappeared,  life  once  more  animated  the  crowd. 
All  breathed  more  freely  when  relieved  from  their  much-feared  pres- 
ence, and  soon  they  commenced  talking  again  of  Cicemachi's  new 
saint. 

"  You  see, "  whispered  Montardo  to  the  stranger,  "  that  our  gov- 
ernment is  neutral.  It  will  pimish  neither  the  Prussiani  nor  the 
Teresiani ;  only  warns  us  not  to  carry  our  zeal  too  far,  and  reminds 
us  that  it  is  against  the  law  to  carry  a  dagger  or  a  knife  in  the  street. 
But  now  let  us  enter  the  shop,  and  I  will  introduce  you  to  Cicer- 
nachi." 

He  took  the  stranger's  arm,  and  entered  the  shop,  where  a  tall, 
slim  man  met  him.  His  long  black  hair  hung  in  wild  disorder  on 
both  sides  of  his  expressive  countenance,  his  eyes  sparkled  with 
fire,  and  on  his  full  red  lip  there  was  a  proud,  triumphant  smile. 

"  Well,  Montardo, "  said  he,  "  you  come  undoubtedly  to  congratu- 
late me  on  this  victory  over  these  miserable  Teresiani. " 

"Certainly,  sir,"  cried  Montardo,  laughingly,  "it  was  a  most 
original  idea. " 

"Do  you  know  why  I  have  done  it?"  said  Cicernachi ;  "yester- 
day the  Teresiani  placed  before  their  restaurants  the  bull  of  Pope 
Clement  XI.,  which  has  just  been  confirmed  and  renewed  by 
Clement  XIII.  It  was  printed  on  white  satin,  and  enclosed  in  a 
beautiful  gilt  frame,  and  underneath  it  burnt  a  sacred  lamp. " 

"What  are  the  contents  of  this  bull?"  said  Montardo. 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  beginning, "  said  Cicernachi,  "  I  do  not  recol- 
lect all.  It  sounded  thus:  'You  have  long  known  that  Frederick, 
margrave  of  Brandenburg,  in  contempt  for  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  took  to  himself  the  name  and  insignia  of  king,  a  profane 
and  unheard-of  act  among  Christians.  He  has  thus  unwisely 
enough  become  one  of  those  of  whom  it  is  said  in  the  Bible,  '  They 
reigned,  but  not  through  Me ;  they  were  princes,  but  I  did  not  know 


370       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

them.'  Do  you  conceive  now  why  I  placed  the  king's  picture  be- 
fore my  store?  why  I  burnt  a  lamp  beneath  it?  I  think  this  glorious 
portrait  is  more  deserving  of  a  sacred  lamp  than  the  Pope's  non- 
sensical bull." 

"  You  are  right,  signer, "  said  the  stranger,  advancing  to  Cioer- 
nachi  and  shaking  hands  with  him.  "Permit  me  to  thank  you  in 
the  name  of  my  great  and  noble  king  whom  you  have  this  day  de- 
fended in  so  original  a  manner  fi'om  the  malicious  charges  of  his 
enemies.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  the  king  shall  hear  of 
it  through  me  ;  I  know  it  will  rejoice  him." 

"Ah,  signor,"  said  Montardo,  laughing,  "you  forget  that  you  are 
an  honest  merchant  who  does  not  concern  himself  about  politics. " 

"  I  can  never  forget  I  am  a  Prussian, "  said  the  traveller ;  "  and 
how  could  I  forget  it?"  continued  he,  laughing.  "My  whole  busi- 
ness consists  of  Prussian  wares. "      • 

"Truly  you  have  some  very  beautiful  articles,"  said  Montardo. 
"You  will  be  charmed  with  them,  Cicernachi ;  it  will  be  another 
opportunity  to  annoy  the  Teresiani.     Look  at  this  merchant's  fans." 

The  stranger  opened  several  fans.  Cicernachi 's  eyes  sparkled 
Avith  delight  at  the  sight  of  the  painting.  "  How  many  have  you, 
signor?"  said  he. 

"Twelve." 

"  I  take  them  all,  and  regret  you  have  not  more. " 

"But  Cicernachi,  where  has  all  your  wisdom  gone  to?"  cried 
Montardo.  "  You  have  not  even  asked  the  price  ;  or  do  you,  perhaps, 
think  the  stranger  gives  them  to  you  for  nothing?" 

"No,  no;  I  forgot  it,"  said  Cicernachi,  gazing  with  delight  at 
the  fans  which  the  stranger  was  spreading  out  before  him.  "  What 
is  their  price,  signor?" 

The  stranger  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  in  a  hesi- 
tating manner  :  "  I  paid  ten  francs  for  eacli  fan  in  Geneva. " 

"I  give  twice  that,"  said  Cicernachi,  quickly. 

The  stranger  started  up  hastily,  blushing  with  annoj'ance. 
"  Sir, "  said  he,  "  I  take  from  no  one  a  higher  price  than  I  gave. " 

"Ah,  signor,  signor,"  cried  Montardo,  "you  have  again  forgot- 
ten that  you  are  but  a  merchant.  No  merchant  sells  his  goods  for 
what  he  gave  for  them.     Remember  that. " 

"I  will  make  a  good  business  with  these  fans,"  said  Cicernachi. 
"I  give  you  twenty-four  francs,  and  will  ask  fifty  for  them.  The 
ladies  of  our  nobility,  many  of  whom  are  Prussiani,  will  be  delighted 
to  annoy  their  opponents  in  so  elegant  a  manner.  Are  you  content, 
sir?" 

"  I  am  satisfied, "  said  the  stranger,  blushing  with  emb^rrassmeat 

"  Jg  this  all  you  have  for  Sftl??" 


THE  BROTHERS  OF  SAN  OIOVaNNI  E  fAOLO.        371 

"No,  I  have  something  else,"  said  the  stranger,  opening  another 
package.  "  As  you  are  Prussiano,  these  neat  little  coins  and  medals, 
with  pretty  caricatures  of  the  enemies  of  the  king  on  them,  will  no 
doubt  please  you. " 

"  Ah,  let  us  see  them, "  cried  both  Italians.  They  examined  with 
eagerness  the  medals  upon  which  the  enemies  of  Frederick  were 
represented  in  various  laughable  situations  and  positions. 

"I  take  them  all !"  cried  Cicernachi,  enraptured. 

The  stranger  laughed.  "  I  cannot  sell  you  my  whole  business, " 
said  he  ;  "I  must  retain  something.  I  will  give  you  one  of  each. 
You  must  accept  them  as  a  token  of  my  esteem,  and  must  not  pay 
me  for  them." 

"Signor !"  cried  Montardo,  in  an  imploring  tone,  "remain  at  my 
hotel  as  long  as  you  please,  and  when  I  bring  you  your  bill  lay  some 
of  these  coins  upon  it,  and  I  shall  be  richly  paid. " 

The  stranger  promised  ;  then  having  received,  with  visible  an- 
noyance, the  money  for  the  fans,  left  the  store  with  Montardo  to  pay 
his  visit  to  the  Convent  Giovanni  e  Paolo. 


J. 


CHAPTER    III.  1 

THE  CLOISTER  BROTHERS  OF  SAN  GIOVANNI  E  PAOLO. 

The  Prior  of  San  Giovanni  e  Paolo  had  just  returned  from  the 
second  mass  celebrated  in  the  beautiful  church  of  his  cloister,  the 
burial-place  of  the  great  Titiano  Vicelli.  With  his  arms  folded 
across  his  back,  he  walked  slowly  and  thoughtfully  backward  and 
forward,  then  stood  before  a  large  table  at  which  a  monk  was  occu- 
pied in  unfolding  letters  and  maps. 

"This,  your  worship, "  said  the  monk,  opening  a  new  paper,  "is 
an  exact  plan  of  the  region  around  Mayen  ;  we  have  just  received 
it,  and  the  positions  of  the  two  armies  are  plainly  marked  down. 
If  agreeable  to  your  worship,  I  will  read  the  bulletins  aloud,  and 
you  can  follow  the  movements  of  the  troops  uj)on  the  map. " 

The  prior  shook  his  head  softly.  "  No,  Brother  Anselmo,  do  not 
read  again  the  triumphant  bulletins  of  the  Austrians  and  Russians  ; 
they  pain  my  ears  and  my  heart.  Let  us  rather  look  at  the  map  to 
see  if  the  present  position  of  the  army  offers  any  ground  of  hope. " 

"  I  have  marked  it  all  out  with  pins, "  said  Father  Anselmo ;  "  the 
black  pins  signify  the  army  of  the  allies,  the  white  pins  the  army  of 
the  King  of  Prussia. " 

The  prior  bowed  over  the  map,  and  his  eye  followed  thoughtfully 
the  lines  which  Father  Anselmo  marked  out.     "  Your  pins  are  a  sad 


Sn       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

omen,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  "The  black  ones  surround  like  a 
churchyard  wall  the  white  ones,  which  stand  like  crosses  upon  the 
solitai-y  graves  in  the  midst  of  their  black  enclosures. " 

"But  the  white  pins  will  break  through  the  enclosure,"  said 
Father  Anselmo,  confidently.  "The  great  king — "  Father  Anselmo 
stopped  speaking ;  suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  the  father  guar- 
dian asked  if  he  might  enter. 

The  prior  blushed  slightly,  and  stepped  back  from  the  table  as 
the  sharp  eyes  of  the  father  guardian  wandered  around  the  room 
and  fell  at  last  with  a  sarcastic  expression  upon  the  table  covered 
with  maps  and  plans. 

"  Welcome,  Brother  Theodore, "  said  the  prior,  with  a  slight  nod 
of  the  head. 

"  I  fear  that  I  distvu-b  your  worship  in  your  favorite  occupation, " 
said  the  father  guardian,  pointing  to  the  maps.  "  Your  worship  is 
considering  the  unfortunate  condition  of  the  heretical  king  whom 
God,  as  it  appears,  will  soon  cast  down  in  the  dust,  and  crush  at  the 
feet  of  the  triumphant  Church. " 

"  We  must  leave  results,  at  all  events,  to  God, "  said  the  prior, 
softly  ;  "  He  has  so  often  evidently  lent  his  aid  to  the  King  of  Prus- 
sia, that  I  think  no  one  can  count  confidently  upon  Frederick's  de- 
struction now. " 

"  The  Holy  Father  at  Rome  has  blessed  the  weapons  of  his  adver- 
saries, consequently  they  must  triumph,"  cried  Father  Theodore, 
unctuously.  "But  pardon,  your  worship,  I  forgot  my  errand.  A 
stranger  wishes  to  see  the  prior  of  the  cloister ;  he  has  rare  and 
beautiful  relics  to  sell,  which  he  will  only  show  to  your  worship." 

"  Our  church  is  rich  enough  in  relics, "  said  tlie  prior. 

"Your  worship  does  not  attach  any  especial  value  to  such  things," 
said  the  father  guardian  with  a  derisive  smile  ;  "  but  I  must  allow 
myself  to  recall  to  you  that  the  Holy  Father  in  Rome  has  only  lately 
addressed  a  circular  to  all  the  cloisters,  recommending  the  purchase 
of  rare  relics  to  the  awakening  and  advancing  of  the  true  faith. " 

"  You,  father  guardian,  must  understand  that  matter  best, "  said 
Brother  Anselmo,  sticking  four  new  pins  into  his  map.  "  I  think 
you  brought  back  this  circular  about  six  months  since,  when  you 
returned  to  take  the  place  of  guardian. " 

The  father  was  in  the  act  of  giving  an  angry  answer,  but  the 
prior  came  forward,  and  pointing  to  the  door,  said,  "  Introduce  the 
stranger  with  the  relics." 

A  few  moments  later  the  traveller  from  the  hotel  of  Signor  Mon- 
tardo  entered  the  prior's  room.  He  received  a  kindly  welcome,  and 
was  asked  to  show  his  treasures. 

The  stranger  hesitated,  and  looked  significantly  at  the  two  monks. 


THE  BROTHERS  OF  SAN  GIOVANNI  E  PAOLO    373 

"  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  show  them  to  your  worship  alone, "  said 
he. 

"These  two  fathers  are  consecrated  priests,  and  may  therefore 
dare  to  look  upon  the  holy  treasures,"  said  the  prior,  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  smile. 

"  I  solemnly  swore  to  the  man  from  whom  I  bought  these  relics 
that  I  would  only  show  them  to  the  most  worthy  member  of  your 
order ;  he  was  a  very  pious  man,  and  bitter  necessity  alone  forced 
him  to  sell  his  precious  treasures  ;  he  prayed  to  God  to  grant  tliem 
a  worthy  place,  and  never  to  allow  them  to  be  desecrated  by  unholy 
eyes  or  hands.  As  the  most  holy  and  worthy  brother  is  ever  chosen 
to  be  the  prior,  I  swore  to  show  the  relics  only  to  the  prior.  Your 
worship  will  surely  not  ask  me  to  break  my  oath?" 

The  prior  made  no  answer ;  but  nodded  to  the  two  monks,  who 
silently  left  the  room. 

"And  now,  sir,  show  your  treasures,"  said  the  prior,  as  the  door 
closed  behind  them. 

"Your  worship,"  said  the  stranger,  rapidly,  "I  have  nothing 
but  a  letter  from  the  Abbe  Bastiani,  which  I  was  to  give  to  your 
own  hands. "  He  drew  a  letter  from  his  bosom,  which  he  handed  to 
the  prior,  who  received  it  with  anxious  haste  and  hid  it  in  his  robe  ; 
then,  with  quick  but  noiseless  steps  he  passed  hastily  through  the 
room,  and  with  a  rapid  movement  dashed  open  the  door ;  a  low  cry 
•was  heard,  and  a  black  figure  tumbled  back  upon  the  floor. 

"Ah!  is  that  you,  father  guardian?"  said  the  prior,  in  a  tone  of 
sympathy.     "  I  fear  that  I  hurt  you. " 

"  Not  so,  your  worship ;  I  only  returned  to  say  to  you  that  it  is 
the  hour  for  dinner,  and  the  pious  brothers  are  already  assembled  in 
the  hall." 

"  And  I  opened  the  door  to  call  after  you,  father,  and  entreat  you 
to  take  my  place  at  the  table.  As  I  am  in  the  act  of  looking  at  these 
holy  relics,  and  touching  them,  I  dare  not  soil  my  hands  so  soon 
afterward  with  earthly  food.  You  will,  therefore,  kindly  take  my 
place,  and  I  will  not  appear  till  the  evening  meal.  Go,  then, 
worthy  brother,  and  may  God  bless  you  richly."  He  bowed  and 
raising  his  right  hand,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  while  the  father 
guardian  slowly,  and  with  a  frowning  brow,  passed  through  the 
room.  Having  reached  the  opposite  door,  he  paused  and  looked 
back ;  but  seeing  the  prior  still  standing  upon  the  threshold  of  his 
room,  and  gazing  after  him,  he  dashed  open  the  door  and  disappeared. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  prior,  entering  and  closing  the  door  care- 
fully, "we  are  alone,  and  I  am  ready  to  listen  to  you. " 

"  I  pray  your  worship  te  read  first  the  letter  ef  jrour  brether.  ^« 
Abb4  Bastiani." 


B74        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Ah!  he  has  told  you  that  I  am  hia  brother?"  said  the  prior, 
eagerly.  "  He  trusts  you  then,  fully  ?  "Well,  I  will  read  the  letter. " 
He  opened  and  read  it  impatiently.  "  This  is  a  very  laconic  and 
enigmatical  letter, "  said  he.  "  My  brother  refers  me  wholly  to  you  , 
he  assures  me  I  can  confide  entirely  in  your  silence  and  discretion, 
and  entreats  me  to  assist  you  in  the  attainment  of  your  object. 
Make  known  to  me  then,  signor,  in  what  way  I  can  serve  you,  and 
what  aim  you  have  in  view. " 

"  First,  I  will  give  your  worship  a  proof  that  I  trust  you  fully 
and  unconditionally.  I  will  tell  you  who  I  am,  and  then  make 
known  my  purpose ;  you  will  then  be  able  to  decide  how  far  you  can 
give  me  counsel  and  aid. " 

"Let  us  step  into  this  window-niche,"  said  the  prior;  "we  will 
be  more  secure  from  eavesdroppers.  Now,  signor,  I  am  ready  to 
listen." 

The  stranger  bowed.  "First,  I  must  pray  your  worship's  for- 
giveness, for  having  dared  to  deceive  you.  I  am  no  merchant,  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  relics ;  I  am  a  soldier  !  my  name  is  Cocceji, 
and  I  have  the  honor  to  be  an  adjutant  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  My 
royal  master  has  intrusted  me  with  a  most  important  and  secret 
mission,  and  I  am  commissioned  by  your  brother,  the  Abbe  Bas- 
tiani,  to  ask  in  his  name  for  your  assistance  in  this  great  matter." 

"  In  what  does  your  mission  consist?"  said  the  prior,  calmly. 

The  Baron  Cocceji  smiled.  "It  is  difficult — yes,  impossible  to 
tell  you  in  a  few  words.  Your  worship  must  allow  me  a  wider 
scope,  in  order  to  explain  myself  fully." 

"Speak  on  !"  said  the  prior. 

"  I  see,  by  the  maps  and  the  arrangements  of  the  pins,  that  your 
worship  knows  exactly  the  position  and  circumstances  of  my  royal 
master,  whom  all  Europe  admires  and  wonders  at,  and  whom  his 
enemies  fear  most  when  they  have  just  defeated  him.  They  know 
that  my  king  is  never  so  great,  never  so  energetic  and  bold  in 
action,  as  when  he  is  seemingly  at  a  disadvantage,  and  overwhelmed 
by  misfortunes.  The  bold  glance  of  the  great  Frederick  discovers 
ever- new_ fountains  of  help ;  he  creates  in  Irimself  both  power  and 
strength,  and  when  his  enemies  think  they  have  caught  the  royal 
lion  in  their  nets,  his  bold  eye  has  already  discovered  the  weak  spot ; 
he  tears  it  apart,  and  makes  his  foes,  bewildered  with  terror  and 
astonishment,  fly  before  him.  It  is  true,  the  king  has  just  lost 
three  battles  !  The  Austrians  and  Russians  defeated  him  at  Hoch- 
kirch,  at  Kflnersdorf,  and  at  Mayen.  But  what  have  they  gained? 
They  have,  in  these  three  battles,  lost  more  than  the  king ;  they 
loave  exhausted  their  resources — their  own,  and  those  of  their  allies ; 
but  Frederick  stagds  still  opposed  to  them,  full  of  strength  an<J 


THE  Brothers  op  san  giovanni  e  paolo.      376 

power.  His  army  is  enlarged;  from  every  side,  from  every  prov- 
ince, shouting  crowds  stream  onward  to  join  the  colors  of  their 
king.  Enthusiasm  makes  a  youth  of  the  graybeard,  aiid  changes 
boys  to  men.  Each  one  of  them  will  have  his  part  in  the  experience 
and  fame  of  the  great  Frederick,  and  demands  this  of  him  as  a  holy 
right.  The  king's  treasury  is  not  exhausted  ;  the  people,  with  joy 
and  gladness,  have  offered  up  upon  the  altar  of  the  fatherland,  their 
possessions,  their  jewels,  and  their  precious  things,  and  submit 
witii  enthusiasm  to  all  the  restrictions  and  self-denials  which  the 
war  imposes  upon  them.  They  desire  nothing  but  to  see  their  king 
victorious ;  to  help  him  to  this,  they  will  give  property,  blood — 
yes,  life  itself.  It  is  this  warm,  enthusiastic  love  of  his  people 
which  makes  the  king  so  fearful  to  his  enemies  ;  it  protects  him  like 
a  diamond  shield,  steels  him  against  the  balls  of  his  adversaries, 
and  fills  his  proud,  heroic  soul  with  assurances  of  triumph.  All 
Europe  shares  this  enthusiasm  and  these  convictions  of  ultimate 
success  with  the  Prussians  and  their  dear-loved  king.  All  Europe 
greets  the  hero  with  loud  hosannas,  who  alone  defies  so  many  and 
such  mighty  foes,  who  has  often  overcome  them,  and  from  whom 
they  have  not  yet  wrung  one  single  strip  of  the  land  they  have 
watered  with  their  blood,  and  in  whose  bosom  their  fallen  hosts  lie 
buried  in  giant  graves.  This  has  won  for  him  the  sympathy  of  all 
Europe,  and  the  love  and  admiration  of  even  the  subjects  of  his 
great  and  powerful  foes.  In  Fi-ance — that  France,  whose  warriors 
suffered  so  shameful  a  defeat  at  Rossbach,  and  whose  government  is 
filled  with  rage  and  thirsty  for  revenge  against  this  heroic  king — 
even  in  France  is  Frederick  admired  and  worshipped.  Even  in  the 
palace  of  the  king,  they  no  longer  refuse  to  acknowledge  his  worth 
and  glory.  But  lately,  the  young  Duke  de  Belleisle  exhorted  the 
Marquise  de  Pompadour  to  implore  King  Louis  to  prosecute  the  war 
with  earnestness  and  ardor,  otherwise  King  Fi-ederick  might  soon 
be  expected  in  Paris  with  his  army.  Tlie  Marquise  de  Pompadour 
cried  out  warmly,  'Good  !  then  I  shall  at  last  see  a  king !'  In  Ger- 
many, his  enemies  seek  in  vain  to  arouse  the  fanaticism  of  the 
people  against  the  heretical  king.  Catholic  Bavaria — the  Palatinate 
— Main — enter  murmuringly  and  reluctantly  into  this  war  against 
this  Protestant  king,  although  they  wear  the  beads  in  their  pockets, 
and  the  scapular  over  their  shoulders.  Even  if  Frederick  the  Second 
is  now  overcome  by  his  enemies,  in  the  public  opinion  he  is  the 
conqueror,  and  the  whole  world  sympathizes  with  him.  But  public 
opinion  is  his  only  ally,  and  the  sympathy  of  the  people  is  his  only 
source  of  revenue,  outside  of  the  subsidy  from  England,  which  will 
soon  be  exhausted.  Frederick,  therefore,  must  look  after  other 
allies,  other  friends,  who  will  render  him  assistance,  in  so  far  as 


376       ITIEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

not  to  unsheathe  the  sword  against  him,  and  to  prepare  some  diffi- 
culties for  his  adversaries,  and  occupy  a  portion  of  their  attention. 
Such  friends  the  king  hopes  to  find  in  Italy  ;  and  to  attain  this  ob- 
ject, I  would  ask  coimsel  and  help  of  your  worship. " 

"And  in  how  far  is  it  thought  that  I  can  be  useful  in  this  mat- 
ter?" said  the  prior,  thoughtfully. 

"Your  worship  has  a  second  brother,  who  is  minister  of  the 
King  of  Sardinia,  and  it  is  well  known  he  is  the  king's  especial 
confidant  and  favorite. " 

"And  my  noble  brother,  Giovanni,  merits  fully  the  favor  of  his 
king  I"  said  the  prior,  heartily.  "  He  is  the  most  faithful,  the  most 
exalted  servant  of  his  master  !" 

"In  all  his  great  and  good  characteristics,  he  resembles  his 
brother,  the  Prior  of  San  Giovanni,  and  I  hope,  in  this  also,  that  he 
is  the  friend  of  the  King  of  Pnissia !"  said  the  stranger. 

"  But  I  fear  neither  the  friendship  of  my  brother  Giovanni  nor 
my  own  can  be  useful  to  the  King  of  Prussia.  I  am  a  poor  and 
powerless  monk,  suspected  and  watched.  My  offence  is,  that  I  have 
not,  like  the  fanatical  priests  of  the  Church,  wished  for  the  destruc- 
tion and  death  of  the  great  Fi-ederick.  My  brother  is  the  minister 
of  a  king,  whose  land  is  neither  rich  enough  in  gold  to  pay  subsi- 
dies, nor  in  men  to  place  an  army  in  the  field. " 

"  Well,  then,  we  must  take  occasion  to  increase  the  territory  of 
the  King  of  Sardinia!"  said  Baron  Cocceji.  "We  must  give  him 
so  large  a  realm,  that  he  will  be  a  dangerous  neighbor  to  France  and 
Austria.  Tliis  is  the  plan  and  the  intention  of  my  king.  Upon 
these  points  turn  the  proposals  I  will  make  in  Turin,  for  the  further- 
ance of  which,  I  pray  your  assistance.  The  King  of  Sardinia  has 
well-groimded  claim  to  Milan,  to  Mantua,  and  to  Bologna,  by  the 
treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  •  why  not  make  himself  King  of  Lom- 
bardy  ?  Unhappy  Italy  is  like  unhappy  Germany — torn  to  pieces. 
In  place  of  obeying  one  master,  they  must  submit  to  the  yoke  of 
many.  The  dwellers  in  Italy,  instead  of  being  Italians,  call  them- 
selves Milanese,  Venetians,  Sardinians,  Tuscans,  Romans,  Neapoli- 
tans, and  I  know  not  what.  All  this  weakens  the  national  pride, 
and  takes  from  the  people  the  joyful  consciousness  of  their  great- 
ness. Italy  must  be  one  in  herself,  in  order  to  be  once  more  great 
and  powerful.  Let  the  King  of  Sardinia  take  possession  of  Upper 
Italy,  and  he  will,  with  his  rightful  inheritance,  and  as  King  of 
Lombardy,  be  a  powerful  prince — feared  by  his  enemies,  and  wel- 
comed by  his  allies. " 

"  And  do  you  think  that  Naples  would  look  quietly  on  and  wit- 
ness this  rapid  growth  of  Sardinia?"  said  the  prior,  laughing. 

"We  will  give  to  Naples  an  opportunity  at  the  same  time  to 


THE  BROTHERS  OF  SAN  GIOVANNI  E  PAOLO.   S'J'C' 

enlarge  lier  borders.  The  young  King  of  Naples  has  energy  ;  he  has 
proved  it.  When  his  father,  Don  Carlos,  was  called  by  right  of 
succession  to  the  Spanish  throne,  he  had  himself  declared  King  of 
Naples,  not  regarding  the  right  of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  to  whom, 
according  to  the  treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  the  Neapolitan  throne 
rightly  belonged.  King  Ferdinand  is  already  a  usurper !  Let  him 
go  on,  even  as  successfully  in  the  same  path — he  has  taken  Naples — 
let  him  take  Tuscany  and  the  States  of  the  Church,  and,  as  King  of 
Lower  Italy,  he  will  be  as  powerful  as  the  King  of  Sardinia.  In 
order  tliat  both  may  obtain  possession  of  these  lands  uninten-upted 
and  uninjured,  will  the  King  of  Prussia  so  completely  occupy  the 
attention  of  Austria  and  France  in  Germany  and  Flanders  as  to  make 
it  impossible  for  them  to  interfere  with  Naples  and  Sardinia?"* 

"  By  Heaven  !  a  great  and  bold  idea ;  altogether  in  harmony  with 
the  energetic  spirit  of  Frederick,"  cried  the  prior.  "If  the  two 
Italian  kings  resemble  the  great  Frederick,  they  will  adopt  this  plan 
with  enthusiasm." 

He  had  risen,  and  stepped  hastily  backward  and  forward,  now 
and  then  murmuring  a  few  disconnected  words  ;  he  then  drew  near 
the  table  and  stood  earnestly  regarding  the  maps. 

Cocceji  did  not  dare  to  interrupt  him  by  word  or  sound ;  he 
watched  him,  however,  closely.  At  last,  however,  the  inward 
struggle  seemed  to  be  over ;  he  stood  quietly  before  the  baron,  and, 
fixing  his  dark,  earnest  eyes  with  a  thoughtful  expression  upon  him, 
he  said,  softly  :  "  You  have  confided  to  me  a  great  and  dangerous 
enterprise.  If  I  did  my  duty  as  the  unconditional  subject  of  the 
Pope,  and  as  a  priest  of  the  holy  Church,  of  which  Frederick  is  the 
bitter  antagonist,  I  should  arrest  you  here,  as  a  dangerous  nego- 
tiator and  enemy,  and  above  all,  I  should  give  speedy  notice  of  this 
conspiracy,  which  not  only  threatens  Clement  as  head  of  the  Church, 
but  as  sovereign  of  the  States  of  the  Church.  But — what  would  you 
have? — I  was  not  bom  a  priest,  and  my  heart  and  my  spirit  have 
never  been  able  to  accommodate  themselves  fully  to  the  discipline 
of  my  order.  I  have  always  remained,  I  fear,"  said  he,  with  a 
graceful  smile,  "the  true  brother  of  the  free-thinking  Abbe  Bas- 
tiani ;  and  it  appears  to  me,  it  lies  in  our  blood  to  love  and  pay 
homage  to  the  great  and  intellectual  King  of  Prussia.  I  will,  there- 
fore, listen  to  and  follow  the  voice  of  my  blood  and  of  my  heart,  and 
forget  a  little  that  I  am  a  priest  of  the  only  church  in  which  salva- 
tion can  be  found.  As  far  as  it  lies  in  my  power,  I  will  promote 
your  object.  I  will  give  you  letters  to  Turin,  not  only  to  my  brother 
Giovanni,  but  to  Father  Tomaseo,  the  king'.s  confessor.  He  is  my 
mo.st  faithful  friend,  and  sympathizes  full}-  with  me.  If  you  can 
♦Preuas,  "  History  of  Frederick  the  Great." 
25 


378       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

win  him  and  my  brother  Giovanni,  you  have  won  the  king,  and  he 
will  lend  a  willing  ear  to  your  proposals.  Your  plans  are  bold,  but 
my  brother  and  Father  Tomaseo  are  daring,  undaunted  men ;  the 
progress  of  Italy  and  the  greatness  of  their  king  lies  nearest  their 
hearts.  They  are  both  influenced  by  my  judgment,  and  when  you 
liaud  them  my  letters,  you  will  at  least  be  a  most  welcome  guest. " 

He  gave  the  baron  his  hand,  and  listened  with  a  kindly  smile  to 
the  enthusiastic  thanks  of  the  over-happy  soldier,  whose  first  diplo- 
matic mission  seemed  to  promise  so  favorably. 

"  Be,  however,  always  prudent  and  discreet,  signor, "  said  the  prior, 
laughing.  "  Play  your  role  as  merchant ;  do  not  lay  it  aside  for  one 
moment  while  in  Turin.  Leave  Venice  as  quickly  as  possible ;  no 
doubt  the  brother  guardian,  who  was  sent  from  Rome  as  a  spy,  who 
watches  not  only  all  my  actions,  but  my  words  ^and  thoughts,  has 
remarked  our  long  interview,  and  is  already  suspicious.  As  he  has 
a  fine  nose,  he  may  soon  discover  a  part  of  your  secret !  Do  not 
return  to  the  cloister.  During  the  day  I  will  send  you  the  promised 
letters  by  a  faithful  brother.  As  soon  as  you  receive  them,  be  off ! 
My  best  wishes  and  my  prayers  accompany  you.  Without  doubt, 
you  are,  like  your  great  king,  a  heretic.  I  cannot,  therefore  com- 
mend you  to  Mary  Mother,  and  the  saints,  but  I  will  pray  to  God  to 
watch  over  you. " 

The  prior  stopped  suddenly  and  listened !  Loud  cries  of  wild 
alarm  forced  themselves  upon  his  ear ;  the  sounds  appeared  to  come 
from  directly  under  his  feet,  and  waxed  louder  and  fiercer  every 
moment. 

''  It  is  in  the  dining-room, "  said  the  prior,  "  follow  me,  sir,  I  beg 
you,  we  may  need  your  help — some  one  is  murdering  my  monks  !" 
They  hastened  from  the  rooin  with  flying  feet ;  they  passed  through 
the  long  coiTidors  and  down  the  steps ;  the  cries  and  roars  and  howls 
and  curses  became  ever  clearer. 

"  I  was  not  mistaken, "  said  the  prior,  "  this  comes  from  the  re- 
fectory." He  rushed  to  the  door  and  threw  it  hastily  open,  then 
stood,  as  if  chained  to  the  threshold,  and  stared  with  horror  at  the 
mad  spectacle  before  him. 

There  were  no  murderous  strangers  there  playing  wild  havoc 
amongst  his  monks  ;  but  the  worthy  fathers  themselves  were  making 
the  fierce  tumult  which  filled  the  prior  with  alarm.  The  saloon  no 
longer  resembled  the  ascetic,  peaceful  refectory  of  cloister  brothers. 
It  was  changed  into  a  battle-field,  upon  which  the  two  hosts  thirst- 
ing for  blood  stood  opposed. 

The  table  upon  which  the  glasses,  plates,  and  dishes  seemed  to 
have  been  thrown  together  in  wild  disorder,  was  shoved  to  one  side, 
and  in  the  open  space  the  monks  stood  with  flash iog  eyes,  uttering 


THE  BROTHERS  OF  SAN  GIOVANNI  E  PAOLO.        379 

cui*ses  and  imprecations  ;  not  one  of  them  remarked  that  the  prior 
and  G^cceji  stood  at  the  door,  astonished  spectators  of  this  unheard- 
of  combat. 

"Silence!"  said  the  father  guardian,  making  frantic  gesticula- 
tions toward  the  monks  who  stood  opposed  to  him  and  his  adherents 
— "silence  !  no  one  shall  dare  within  these  sacred  walls  to  speak  of 
the  Prussian  heretical  king  in  any  other  way  than  with  impreca- 
tions. Whoever  wishes  success  to  his  arms  is  an  apostate,  a  traitor, 
and  heretic.  God  has  raised  the  sword  of  His  wrath  against  him, 
and  He  will  crush  him  utterly  ;  He  has  blessed  the  weapons  of  his 
adversaries  as  Clement  has  also  done.  Long  live  Maria  Theresa, 
her  apostolic  majesty !" 

The  monks  by  his  side  roared  out,  "  Long  live  Maria  Theresa,  her 
apostolic  majesty !" 

"She  will  not  be  victorious  over  Frederick  of  Prussia,"  cried 
Father  Anselmo,  the  leader  of  the  opposite  party.  "  The  Pope  has 
blessed  the  arms  of  Daun,  but  God  himself  has  blessed  the  weapons 
of  Frederick.  Long  live  the  King  of  Prussia  !  Long  live  the  great 
Frederick !" 

"  Long  live  the  great  Frederick  !"  cried  the  monks  by  the  side  of 
Father  Anselmo. 

The  party  of  the  father  guardian  rushed  upon  them  with  doubled 
fists  ;  the  adversaries  followed  their  example.  "  Long  live  Theresa  !" 
cried  the  one.  "  Long  live  Frederick !"  cried  the  other — and  the 
blows  and  kicks  fell  thickly  right  and  left,  with  the  most  lavish 
prodigality. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  prior  advanced  among  them  and  com- 
manded peace — no  one  regarded  him.  In  their  wild  and  indiscrimi- 
nate rage  they  pressed  him  and  shoved  him  from  side  to  side,  and 
in  the  heat  of  the  battle  several  powerful  blows  fell  upon  his  breast ; 
so  the  poor  prior  took  refuge  again  at  the  door  near  Cocceji,  who 
was  laughing  merrily  at  the  wild  disorder. 

The  cries  of  "  Long  live  Theresa!"  "Long  live  Frederick!"  were 
mingling  lustily  in  the  bloody  strife. 

The  father  guardian  was  enraged  beyond  bearing,  and  his  flash- 
ing eye  looked  around  for  some  sharp  weapon  with  which  to  demol- 
ish Father  Anselmo,  who  had  just  exclaimed,  "  Long  live  Frederick, 
the  victor  of  Leuthen  and  Zorndorf !"  He  seized  a  large  tin  cup, 
which  was  near  him  upon  the  table,  and  with  a  fierce  curse  he 
dashed  it  in  the  face  of  Father  Anselmo,  and  the  blood  burst  from 
his  nose.  This  was  the  signal  for  a  new  order  of  attack.  Both  par- 
ties rushed  to  the  table  to  arm  themselves  ;  the  cups  whizzed  through 
the  air  and  wounded  severely  the  heads  against  which  they  were 
well  aimed.     Here  and  there  might  be  heard  whimperings  and  pite- 


380       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ous  complaints,  mixed  with  curses  and  frantic  battle-cries — "  Long 
live  Theresa  !"  "Long  live  Frederick!"  Some  of  the  warriors  crept 
from  the  contest  into  the  corners  to  wipe  the  blood  from  their  woimds 
and  return  with  renewed  courage  to  the  contest.  A  few  cowards 
had  crept  under  the  table  to  escape  the  cups  and  kicks  which  were 
falling  in  every  direction. 

Father  Ansehno  remarked  them,  and  with  loud,  derisive  laughter 
he  pointed  them  out. 

"  The  Teresiani  live  under  the  table,  no  Prussiano  has  crept  there. 
All  the  Teresiani  would  gladly  hide  as  they  have  often  done  before. " 

Tlie  Prussiani  accompanied  these  words  of  their  leader  with 
joyous  shouts. 

The  father  guardian  trembled  with  rage  ;  he  seized  a  large  dish 
from  the  table  and  dashed  it  at  Anselmo,  who  dodged  in  time,  and 
then  with  a  powerful  arm  returned  the  compliment.  It  was  a  well- 
directed  javelin.  The  tin  dish  struck  the  father  guardian  exactly 
in  the  back — he  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  to  the  earth.  The  Pnissiani 
greeted  this  heroic  deed  of  their  chief  with  shouts  of  triumph. 

"  So  shall  all  the  Teresiani  perish  !" 

The  battle  waxed  hotter  and  fiercer,  the  air  was  thick  with 
missiles. 

"They  will  murder  each  other!"  cried  the  prior,  turning  to  the 
Baron  Cocceji. 

"  Not  so,  your  worship ;  there  will  only  be  a  few  blue  swellings 
and  bleeding  noses — nothing  more,"  said  Cocceji,  laughing. 

"Ah,  you  laugh  young  man  ;  you  laugh  at  this  sad  spectacle  !" 

"  Forgive  me,  your  worship ;  but  I  swear  to  you,  I  have  never 
seen  warriors  more  eager  in  the  fray,  and  I  have  never  been  more 
curious  to  witness  the  result  of  any  battle. " 

"  But  you  shall  not  witness  it, "  said  the  prior,  resolutely.  "  You 
shall  no  longer  be  a  spectator  of  the  unworthy  and  shameful  conduct 
of  my  monks.  I  pray  you  to  withdraw  instantly  ;  in  a  few  hours  I 
will  send  you  the  letters,  and  if  you  believe  that  I  have  rendered 
you  the  least  service,  I  ask  in  return  that  you  will  tell  no  one  what 
you  have  seen. " 

"I  promise,  your  worship,"  said  Cocceji,  with  forced  gravity. 
"  If  the  people  without  shall  ask  me  what  all  this  tumult  means,  I 
will  say  that  the  pious  fathers  in  the  cloister  are  singing  their 
•Horas.""* 

Baron  Cocceji  bowed  to  the  prior,  and  returned  with  gay  and 
hopeful  thoughts  to  the  hotel  of  the  "White  Lion." 

A  few  hours  later,  a  monk  appeared  and  desired  to  speak  with 
the  stranger  about  the  holy  relics. 

*  B^roB  Cocceji  did  uot  keep  his  word,  ftS  tbis  wUole  ppejie  |s  historic, 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  ARMY.  381 

Cocceji  recognized  in  him  the  worthy  Father  Anselmo,  the  victor 
over  the  father  guardian. 

"Will  you  do  me  a  great  pleasure,  worthy  father?"  said  he. 
"  Tell  me  which  party  remained  in  possession  of  the  field  after  your 
great  battle. " 

An  expression  of  triumphant  joy  flashed  in  Father  Anselmo's 
eyes. 

"  The  Prussiani  were  victorious,  and  I  think  the  Teresiani  will 
never  dare  to  recommence  the  strife ;  four  of  their  monks  lie  in 
their  cells  with  broken  noses,  and  it  will  be  some  weeks  before  the 
father  guardian  will  be  capable  of  performing  his  duties  as  spy  ;  he 
is  sore  and  stiff,  and  his  mouth  is  poorer  by  a  few  teeth.  May  all 
the  enemies  of  the  great  Frederick  share  his  fate !  May  God  bless 
the  King  of  Pnissia  and  be  gracious  to  his  friends  !" 

He  greeted  the  baron  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  withdrew. 

The  baron  remembered  the  warning  of  the  prior,  and  hastened 
quietly  from  Venice.  Already  the  next  morning  he  was  on  the  high- 
way to  Turin.* 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  ARMY. 

It  was  a  sunny,  summer  day — one  of  those  days  which  incline 
the  heart  to  prayer,  and  bring  tears  of  happiness  to  the  eyes.  There 
are  no  such  days  in  cities  ;  if  we  would  enjoy  them  we  must  go  into 
the  country — we  must  seek  them  in  peaceful  valleys,  in  fragrant 
forests,  where  the  silence  is  unbroken,  except  by  the  fluttering 
leaves  and  the  singing  of  birds.  We  must  understand  the  eloquent 
silence  of  Nature  in  order  to  enjoy  the  holy  Sabbath  quiet  of  a  sum- 
mer day ;  and  we  must  be  able  to  hear  the  language  which  the 
flowers  breathe  forth,  to  understand  the  sighing  of  the  wind,  and 
the  rustling  of  the  trees. 

Very  few  can  do  this,  but  few  would  care  for  it.  God  has  not 
opened  the  eyes  of  the  hearts  of  many  of  us  to  this  extent ;  these 
things  are  hidden  by  a  thick  veil  from  the  many  ;  they  cannot  see 

*This  diplomatic  mission  failed,  because  of  the  faint  heart  of  IheKingof  Sar- 
dinia. He  rejected  the  bold  propositions  of  Frederick  entirely,  and  said,  in  justifica- 
tion of  himself,  that  since  the  alliance  between  the  powers  of  France  and  Austria, 
he  had  his  head  between  a  pair  of  tongs,  which  were  ever  threatening  to  close  and 
crush  him. 

Baron  Cocceji  was  not  more  fortunate  in  Naples,  and  after  many  vain  efforts 
he  v.ns  forced  to  return  home,  having  accomplished  nothing.— Duten's  " Memoirs  of 
a  Traveller." 


382       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  heavenly  beauty  of  Nature — they  do  not  understand  the  fairy 
tale  which  she  is  ever  telling.  This  is  gentle,  idyllic,  fairy  lore, 
unsought  by  the  learned.  It  whispers  of  roses,  of  dancing  elves,  of 
weeping  clouds,  of  dreaming  violets. 

Happy  are  those  who  listen  to  these  fables,  who  are  not  called  by 
the  necessities  of  life  to  hear  the  roar  of  cannon — to  find  all  these 
sweet  and  holy  songs  overpowered  by  the  noise  of  war,  the  horrors 
of  bloodshed ! 

War,  destructive  war,  still  held  a  lighted  torch  over  unhappy 
Germany ;  cities  and  villages  were  in  ruins — even  the  peace  of 
Nature  was  destroyed.  The  valleys,  usually  so  quiet,  now  often 
resounded  with  the  roar  of  cannon.  The  fields  remained  unculti- 
vated, the  meadows  uncared  for ;  there  were  no  strong  hands  to 
work.  The  men  and  youths  were  gone,  only  the  old  graybeards  and 
the  women  were  in  the  villages,  and  the  work  advanced  but  slowly 
under  their  trembling  hands.  Unhappiness  and  want,  care  and 
sorrow  were  in  the  land. 

Even  in  the  once  peaceful  and  happy  village  of  Brunen  on  the 
Rhine,  misery  had  made  itself  felt.  Grief  and  anguish  dwelt  with 
the  bereaved  mothers,  with  the  forsaken  brides,  and  the  weak  old 
men  ;  with  the  useless  cripples,  who  had  returned  from  the  war,  and 
who  spent  their  time  in  relating  the  dangers  through  which  they 
had  passed,  in  telling  of  the  sons,  the  brothers,  the  husbands,  and 
the  fathers  of  those  who  listened  to  their  tales — those  dear  ones  who 
were,  perhaps,  now  stretched  upon  the  battle-field. 

But  on  this  bright  day  no  one  in  the  village  gave  a  thought  to  the 
beauties  of  Nature,  for  a  new  misfortune  weighed  heavily  upon  the 
hearts  of  the  unhappy  inhabitants.  They  were  no  longer  the  sub- 
jects of  the  hero-king,  who  was  so  worshipped  by  all ;  under  whose 
colors  their  fathers  and  sons  still  fought.  The  Frencli  army,  led  by 
the  Duke  de  Broglie  and  the  Count  de  St.  Germain,  liad  taken  pos- 
session of  all  that  part  of  the  country,  and  held  it  in  the  name  of 
their  king.  It  was  declared  a  French  province,  and  the  inhabitants, 
helpless  and  forsaken,  were  comj)elled  to  acknowledge  the  French  as 
their  masters,  and  to  meet  the  taxes  which  were  imposed  upon 
them. 

It  was  a  most  bitter  necessity,  and  no  one  'felt  it  more  deeply 
than  the  old  shepherd  Buschman,  the  father  of  Charles  Henry.  He 
sat,  as  we  first  saw  him,  on  the  slope  of  the  field  where  his  flock 
was  grazing,  guarded  and  kept  in  order  by  the  faithful  Phylax. 
His  eye  was  not  clear  and  bright  as  then,  but  troubled  and  sorrow- 
ful, and  his  countenance  bore  an  expression  of  the  deepest  grief. 
He  had  no  one  to  whom  he  could  pour  forth  his  sorrows — no  one  to 
comfort  him — he  was  quite  alone.     Even  his  yoimgest  son,  Charles 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  ARMY.  883 

Henry,  the  real  Charles  Henry,  had  been  compelled  to  leave  him. 
The  recruiting  officers  of  the  king  had  come  a  short  time  before  the 
French  troops  had  taken  possession  of  the  province,  and  had  con- 
scripted the  few  strong  men  who  were  still  left  in  the  village  of 
Briinen. 

But  this  time  the  men  of  Briinen  had  not  answered  joyfully  to 
the  demand.  Even  old  Buschman  had  wished  to  keep  his  son  Charles 
Henry  with  him.  Had  he  not  sent  six  sons  to  the  field  of  battle, 
and  had  they  not  all  died  as  heroes?  Charles  Henry  was  his  last 
treasure,  his  one  remaining  child  ;  his  grief -torn  heart  clung  to  him 
with  the  deepest  devotion.  To  be  parted  from  him  seemed  more 
bitter  than  death  itself.  When  the  recruiting  officer  came  into  the 
hut  of  Buschman  and  summoned  Charles  Henry  to  follow  him  as  a 
soldier,  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  filled  with  tears,  and  he  laid  his 
hands  upon  the  arm  of  his  son  as  if  he  feared  to  see  him  instantly 
torn  from  his  sight. 

"Captain  "  he  said,  with  a  trembling  voice,  "I  have  sent  the 
king  six  sons  already  ;  they  have  all  died  in  his  service.  Tell  me 
truly,  is  the  king  in  great  need?  If  so,  take  me  as  well  as  my  son — 
if  not,  leave  me  my  son." 

The  officer  smiled,  and  extended  his  hand  to  the  old  man.  "  Keep 
your  son,"  he  said.  "If  you  have  lost  six  sons  in  the  war,  it  is  right 
that  you  should  keep  the  seventh. " 

Buschman  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  aud  would  have  embraced  his 
son,  but  Charles  Henry  pushed  him  gently  back,  and  his  father  read 
in  his  countenance  a  determination  and  energy  that  he  had  rarely 
seen  there. 

"No,  father,"  he  said,  "let  me  go — let  me  be  a  soldier  as  my 
brothers  were.  I  should  have  gone  four  years  ago,  when  I  was  pre- 
vented, and  Anna  Sophia —  Ah,  let  me  be  a  soldier,  father,"  he 
said,  interrupting  himself.  "All  the  young  men  of  the  village  are 
going,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  remain  at  home. " 

The  old  man  bent  his  head  sadly.  "Go  then,  my  son,"  he  said; 
"God's  blessing  rest  upon  you  !" 

Thus  Charles  Henry  went ;  not  from  a  feeling  of  enthusiasm  for 
the  life  of  a  soldier — not  from  love  to  his  king — but  merely  because 
he  was  ashamed  to  remain  at  home. 

He  had  now  been  absent  several  months,  and  his  father  had  not 
heard  from  him.  But  the  news  of  the  lately  lost  battle  had  reached 
the  village,  and  it  was  said  that  the  Prince  Royal  of  Brunswick,  in 
whose  corps  Charles  Henry  was,  had  been  defeated.  The  old  shep- 
herd remembered  this  as  he  sat  in  the  meadow  this  bright  summer 
morning.  His  thoughts  were  with  his  distant  son,  and  when  he 
|-a}?ie4  his  ej^es  to  he^v^i;  it  wa«  not  t»  adnaire  its  dazzling  blue,  Qf 


384        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

its  immeasurable  depth,  but  to  pray  to  the  Almighty  to  spare  his 
son.  The  peaceful  tranquillity  of  Nature  alarmed  the  old  man — she 
speaks  alone  to  those  who  have  an  ear  attuned  to  her  voice — she  says 
nothing  to  those  who  listen  with  a  divided  heart.  Buschman  could 
endure  it  no  longer ;  he  arose  and  started  toward  the  village.  He 
longed  to  see  some  human  being — to  encounter  some  look  of  love — 
to  receive  sympathy  from  some  one  who  understood  his  grief,  who 
suffered  as  he  did,  and  who  did  not  wear  the  eternal  smile  that 
Nature  wore. 

He  went  to  the  village,  therefore,  and  left  the  care  of  his  flock  to 
Phylax.  It  comforted  his  heart  as  he  passed  through  the  principal 
street  of  Briinen  and  received  kind  greetings  from  every  hut  he 
passed.  He  felt  consoled  and  almost  happy  when  here  and  there  the 
peasants  hun-ied  toward  him  as  he  passed  their  huts,  and  begged 
him  to  come  in  and  join  them  at  their  simple  mid-day  meal,  and 
were  quite  hurt  when  he  refused  because  his  own  dinner  was  pre- 
pared for  him  at  home.  These  men  loved  him — they  pitied  his 
loneliness — they  told  him  of  their  own  cares,  their  own  fears — and  as 
he  endeavored  to  console  and  encourage  them,  he  felt  his  strength  in- 
crease— he  was  more  hopeful,  more  able  to  bear  whatever  God  might 
send. 

"  We  must  be  united  in  love, "  said  Buschman ;  "  we  will  help 
each  other  to  bear  the  sorrows  that  may  come  upon  us.  To-morrow 
is  Sunday  ;  in  the  morning  we  will  go  to  the  house  of  God,  and  after 
we  have  whispered  to  Him  the  prayers  which  He  alone  must  hear, 
we  will  assemble  together  under  the  linden-tree  in  the  square  and 
ta,lk  of  the  old  times  and  those  who  have  left  us.  Do  you  not  re- 
member that  it  was  under  the  linden'-tree  we  heard  of  the  first  Vic- 
tory that  our  king  gained  in  this  fearful  war?  It  was  there  that 
Anna  Sophia  Detzloff  read  the  news  to  us,  and  we  rejoiced  over  the 
battle  of  Losovitz.  And  I  also  rejoiced  and  thanked  God,  although 
the  victory  had  cost  me  the  lives  of  two  of  my  sons.  But  they 
perished  as  heroes.  I  could  glory  in  such  a  death  ;  and  Anna  Sophia 
read  their  praises  from  the  paper.  Ah,  if  Anna  lived,  I  would  at 
least  have  a  daughter. " 

He  could  speak  no  more,  emotion  arrested  the  words  on  his  lips  ; 
he  bowed  to  his  friends  and  passed  on  to  his  lonely  hut.  His  little 
table  was  spread,  and  the  young  girl  who  served  him,  and  who  slept 
in  his  hut  at  night,  was  just  placing  a  dish  of  steaming  potatoes 
before  his  plate.  The  old  man  sat  down  to  his  solitary  meal ;  he  ate 
only  to  sustain  his  body ;  his  thoughts  w^ere  far  away  ;  he  took  no 
pleasure  in  his  food.  In  the  middle  of  his  meal  he  started  up ;  a 
shadow  had  fallen  across  the  window,  and  two  loving,  well-known 
eyes  had  seemed  to  look  in  on  him.    Buschm^p,  as  if  paralyzed  with 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  ARMY.  385 

delight,  let  fall  his  spoon  and  looked  toward  the  door.  Yes,  the  bolt 
moved,  the  door  opened,  and  there  stood  the  tall  figure  of  a  Prussian 
soldier. 

The  old  man  uttered  a  cry  and  extended  his  arms.  "Oh,  my 
son,  my  beloved  son,  do  I  indeed  see  you  once  more?" 

"Yes,  father,  I  am  here;  and  God  willing,  we  will  never  again 
be  parted. "  And  Charles  Henry  hastened  to  the  outstretched  arms 
of  his  father,  and  kissing  him  tenderly,  pressed  him  to  his  heart. 

"  The  thought  of  you,  dear  father,  has  led  me  here, "  he  said  ; 
"  but  for  you  I  would  not  have  returned  to  Briinen  ;  I  should  have 
wandered  forth  into  the  world — the  world  which  is  so  much  greater 
and  more  beautiful  than  I  ever  dreamed.  But  your  dear  old  eyes 
were  before  me  ;  I  heard  your  loved  voice,  which  called  to  me,  and 
1  returned  to  you. " 

"  God  be  praised !"  said  his  father,  folding  his  hands,  and  rais- 
ing his  eyes  gratefully  toward  heaven.  "  Oh  how  kind  and  merciful 
is  God,  to  give  me  back  my  last,  my  only  son,  the  support  of  my 
old  age,  the  delight  of  my  eyes !  You  will  not  leave  me  again. 
This  is  not  merely  a  leave  of  absence  ;  you  have  obtained  your  re- 
lease, the  war  is  ended,  the  king  has  declared  peace. " 

The  eyes  of  the  old  man  were  dimmed  with  tears ;  he  did  not 
perceive  how  Charles  Henry  trembled,  and  that  a  deep  flush 
mounted  to  his  brow. 

"  No,  father, "  he  said,  with  downcast  eyes,  "  I  will  never  leave 
you  again.  We  liave  all  returned  home.  It  will  be  bright  and  gay 
once  more  in  the  village,  and  the  work  will  go  forward,  for  there  is 
a  great  difference  between  a  dozen  old  men  and  as  many  young  ones. 
It  was  most  needful  for  us  to  return.  The  com  is  ripe,  and  should 
have  been  already  gathered.  We  must  go  to  work.  To-morrow 
shall  be  a  happy  day  for  the  village  ;  the  whole  neighborhood  shall 
perceive  that  the  twelve  young  men  of  Bi-iinen  have  returned.  We 
met  a  violinist  on  the  way,  and  we  engaged  him  for  to-morrow. 
He  must  play  for  us  under  the  linden -tree,  and  our  fathers  and 
mothers,  and  sisters  and  sweethearts  must  join  us,  and  we  will 
dance  and  sing  and  make  merry. " 

"What  a  coincidence!"  said  the  old  shepherd,  with  a  bright 
smile.  "We  had  already  decided  that  we  would  meet  together  to- 
morrow under  the  linden.  We  wished  to  sit  there  and  mourn  to- 
gether over  our  lost  sons.  To  sing  and  dance  is  much  better,  and 
perhaps  the  old  grayheads  will  join  you. " 

"  You  must  dance  with  me,  father, "  said  Charles  Henry,  laugh- 
ing.    "  I  will  take  no  refusal. 

"Twill,  my  son,  I  will;  joy  has  made  me  young  again,  and  if 
Phylax,  the  old  graybeard,  does  not  mind,  an4  wjU  allow  ine,  I 


386        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

will  dance  with  you,  but  you  know  he  is  always  jealous  of  you.  I 
am  sure  the  whole  village  will  envy  you  your  gay  young  partner. 
But  now,  my  son, "  he  continued  gravely,  "  tell  me  of  our  king,  and 
how  is  it  that  he  has  declared  peace  so  suddenly,  and  whether  he 
has  been  victorious  or  the  reverse. " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  king"  said  Charles  Henry ;  "  I  was  not 
near  him,  but  in  the  division  of  the  Duke  of  Brunswick. " 

"  I  know  that,  my  son  ;  but  the  duke  would  not  proclaim  peace 
without  the  knowledge  and  consent  of  the  king. " 

"  Oh,  father,  they  will  compel  the  king  to  make  peace, "  cried 
Charles  Henry.  "  And  as  for  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  he  has  given 
up  the  attack  against  Wesel  and  has  withdrawn  to  Westphalia,  and 
the  French  are  in  possession  of  the  entire  lowlands,  which,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  they  will  retain. " 

"You  hope  that?"  asked  his  father,  with  astonishment. 

"  Well,  yes,  father.  The  French  king  is  now,  and  perhaps  will 
always  be,  the  lord  of  Cleve  ;  and,  as  his  subjects,  we  must  wish  him 
success,  and  hope  that  he  will  always  conquer  the  King  of  Prussia." 

"  What  do  you  say ,  my  son?"  asked  the  old  man,  with  a  bewildered 
expression.  "I  fear  you  are  right.  Tlie  French  are  our  masters 
now,  and,  as  our  king  has  declared  peace  with  France,  we  have  the 
unhappiness  of  being  Fi'ench  subjects.  May  God  protect  us  from 
such  a  fate  !  It  would  be  fearful  if  we  dared  not  call  the  gi'eat  hero- 
king  our  king,  and,  if  we  should  live  to  see  the  day  when  our  sons 
should  be  compelled,  as  French  soldiers,  to  go  to  battle  against  their 
king.  Only  think,  Charles  Henry,  you  would  not  be  allowed  to  wear 
your  fine  Prussian  uniform  on  Sundays,  and  it  is  so  becoming  to  you, 
and  is  as  good  as  new.  But  how  is  it,  my  son,  that  they  have  left  you 
the  uniform  ?  They  are  usually  taken  from  the  released  soldiers  and 
put  amongst  the  army  stores. " 

"We  all  came  home  in  our  Prussian  uniforms,"  said  Charles 
Henry,  "but  of  course  we  will  lay  them  aside  to-day." 

"Why  to-day?" 

"  Because  we  are  French  subjects,  and  therefore  it  is  not  proper 
for  us  to  wear  the  uniform  of  the  enemy,  the  King  of  Pi-ussia. 
That  is  also  the  reason  why  we  have  returned  home.  When  we 
learned  that  Cleve  had  fallen  into  the  possession  of  the  French,  we 
knew  that  we  were  no  longer  the  subjects  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
and  we  dared  not  fight  under  his  flag  against  the  French,  whose 
subjects  we  had  become.  We  considered  that,  and  we  thought  how 
much  it  would  injure  you  all  here  in  Brunen  if  it  were  known  that 
your  sons  were  in  the  army  of  the  Prussian  king.  Principally  on 
that  account  we  determined  to  return  home,  and  we  left  our  regi- 
ment yesterday  morning,  which  was  on  the  point  of  niaiching  off 


THE  RETtTRN  FROM  THE  ARMY.  387 

to  Minden,  and  we  walked  the  entire  day  and  half  the  night.  We 
slept  a  few  hours  in  a  forest,  and  at  the  break  of  day  we  recom- 
menced our  journey.  And  now,  father,  that  I  have  seen  you,  and 
you  know  every  thing,  I  will  go  to  my  room  and  take  off  this  uni- 
form, and  become  a  peasant  once  more. "  He  sought  to  leave  the 
room  hastily,  for  the  amazed,  horror-struck  expression  of  his  father 
was  most  disagreeable  to  him. 

But  Buschman  placed  his  hand  so  heavily  upon  his  son's  arm 
ttiat  he  was  compelled  to  remain.  "  Say  it  is  a  jest,  Charles, "  he 
cried,  in  an  excited  voice.  "It  is  not  possible  for  my  son,  the 
brother  of  my  six  hero-boys,  to  speak  thus!  It  is  merely  a.  jest, 
Charles.  You  wished  to  joke  with  your  old  father.  It  is  not  time 
that  you  have  deserted  the  flag  of  our  king ;  put  an  end  to  this  cruel 
jest,  Charles  Henry,  and  show  me  your  leave  of  absence  which 
every  honest  soldier  obtains  before  leaving  his  regiment.  Do  you 
hear,  Charles  Henry?  Show  it  to  me  quickly,"  He  extended  his 
trembling  hand  toward  his  son,  while  with  the  other  he  still  held 
his  arm  in  a  powerful  grasp. 

"  Father, "  said  Charles  Henry,  fiercely,  "  I  have  no  such  paper. 
It  is  as  I  told  you ;  we  have  left  the  Prussian  army  because  we  are 
no  longer  the  subjects  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  it  is  not  necessary 
for  us  to  remain  in  the  service.  We  wish  to  become  pd^sants  once 
more. " 

"  You  lie !  you  lie  1"  cried  his  father.  "  You  are  no  deserter — it 
is  impossible  that  my  son  should  be  a  deserter. " 

"  No,  father,  I  am  no  deserter, "  returned  his  son,  defiantly,  as  he 
freed  his  arm  from  the  old  man's  grasp.  "  I  am  no  deserter — I  have 
only  done  my  duty  as  a  subject  of  the  French  king.  I  have  left  the 
flag  of  the  enemy,  and  I  am  here  ready  and  willing  to  obey  my  new 
master  as  a  true  subject.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say,  father,  and  I  be- 
lieve when  you  consider,  you  will  see  that  I  was  right,  and  that  you 
will  be  pleased  for  me  to  take  off  the  Prussian  uniform  and  remain 
with  you."  He  did  not  wait  for  his  father's  answer,  but  left  the 
room  hastily,  as  if  he  feared  to  be  again  detained. 

The  old  man  arose  to  follow  him,  but  his  feet  refused  their  accus- 
tomed oflSce  ;  with  a  deep  groan,  he  sank  upon  his  chair,  and  as  the 
scalding  tears  streamed  from  his  eyes,  he  murmured  :  "  Oh,  my  God  ! 
my  son  is  a  deserter !  Why  did  you  permit  me  to  live  to  see  this 
shame?  Why  did  you  not  close  my  eyes  that  they  might  not  meet 
this  disgrace?" 


388       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 
CHAPTER    V. 

THE  BBAVE  FATHERS  AND  THE  COWARDLY  SONS. 

The  clea.r  bell  of  the  village  church  was  sounding  for  mass,  call- 
ing the  pious  inhabitants  of  Brunen  to  worship  in  the  temple  of 
God.  All  the  hut-doors  were  opening,  and  men  and  women  in  Sun- 
day attire  wending  their  way  in  solemn  stillness  to  church.  They 
were  followed  by  their  children — the  maidens  with  downcast,  modest 
eyes,  the  boys  with  bright  and  joyous  faces,  proud  of  the  thought 
that  they  were  old  enough  to  go  to  church. 

From  the  distant  farm  came  the  servants,  two  and  two,  up  the 
broad  chestnut  alley,  greeting  here  and  there  the  church-goers,  and 
walking  on  with  them,  chatting  softly.  They  all  remained  stand 
ing  a  short  time  under  the  great  linden,  waiting  until  the  bell 
ceased,  until  the  church-door  was  opened  and  the  minister  appeared 
with  the  sacristan  and  the  four  choir-boys.  Not  imtil  then  were 
they  allowed  to  enter  the  church. 

A  bright-looking  crowd  was  assembled  under  the  linden  ;  it  seemed 
as  if  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  were  there.  All  felt  the 
necessity  dt  visiting  God's  hotise  to-day  to  thank  Him  for  the  safe 
return  of  their  sons,  brothers,  and  lovei-s.  The  twelve  boys  who  had 
returned  were  under  the  linden  in  their  handsomest  Sunday  attire. 
But  why  did  they  stand  alone?  Why  was  such  a  wide  space  left 
between  them  and  the  other  villagers?  Wliy  did  the  men  avoid 
looking  at  them?  Why  did  the  maidens  step  timidly  back  and  re- 
main silent  when  they  approached  and  tried  to  speak  with  them  ? 
Why  were  they  all  whispering  together,  pointing  at  the  boys  and 
turning  their  backs  upon  them  when  they  drew  near? 

"Leave  them  alone,"  whispered  one  of  the  boys  to  the  others; 
"they  will  be  more  friendly  this  afternoon  when  the  music  is  play- 
ing and  the  wine  and  cake  is  handed." 

"There  is  my  father,  and  I  must  go  and  meet  him, "  said  Charles 
Henry,  as  he  hastened  toward  the  old  man  who  was  approaching 
the  square. 

All  drew  back  from  Charles  Henry,  and  as  he  stood  opposite  his 
father,  like  actors  upon  the  stage  they  found  themselves  alone 
amongst  the  spectators,  who  were  gazing  at  them  with  breathless 
expectation. 

"  Good- morning,  father, "  said  Charles  Henry,  with  forced  gayety, 
as  he  offered  his  hand  to  his  father.  "  You  slept  so  late  to-day,  and 
went  to  bed  so  early  yesterday,  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  speak  to 
^ou  since  our  first  greeting.     So  I  bid  you  good-morrow  now. " 


THE  BRAVE  FATHERS  AND  THE  COWARDLY  SONS.   389 

The  old  man  looked  quietly  at  him,  but  he  did  not  take  the  prof- 
fered hand,  and  tried  to  pass  him. 

"  Father, "  continued  Charles  Henry,  "  you  must  be  tired ;  our 
hut  lies  at  the  other  end  of  the  village,  and  that  is  a  long  walk  for 
your  old  legs.  Rest  yourself  on  me,  father,  and  allow  your  son  to 
lead  you  to  church. "  He  stretched  forth  his  hand  to  take  the  old 
man's  arm,  but  Buschman  pushed  it  back, and  passed  him,  without 
looking,  without  even  speaking  to  him. 

Charles  Henry  sprang  after  him.  "Father,"  he  cried,  "do  you 
not  hear  me?    Can  you — " 

The  old  man  did  not  really  appear  to  hear  him,  for  he  walked 
toward  the  village  justice  with  a  quiet,  unmoved  face,  as  the  latter 
advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  Friend, "  said  Buschman,  in  a  loud,  firm  voice,  "I  am  fatigued 
with  my  walk  ;  will  you  lend  me  your  arm?" 

He  leaned  heavily  upon  the  offered  arm,  and  walked  quickly  on- 
ward. All  heard  these  words,  but  only  the  justice  saw  the  tears 
which  rolled  down  his  pale,  sunken  cheeks. 

"  You  were  very  harsh,  father, "  murmured  the  justice,  as  they 
walked  on. 

"Were  you  more  forgiving?"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  trembling 
voice.  "  Was  not  your  son  amongst  the  twelve,  and  did  you  speak  to 
him,  or  look  at  him?" 

"  He  did  not  pass  the  night  in  my  house ;  I  drove  him  away  1" 
said  the  justice  gloomily. 

"  Oh,  oh  !"  sighed  the  old  man  ;  "  how  bitter  is  our  grief !  We 
love  our  children  most  when  they  give  us  most  sorrow  ;  but  it  must 
be  so,  friend,  we  cannot  act  otherwise.  Let  us  enter  the  church, 
and  pray  God  to  give  us  strength  to  do  what  is  right. " 

Supported  by  the  justice,  he  entered  the  churchyard,  while  from 
the  other  side  the  minister,  followed  by  the  sacristan  and  the  choir- 
boys, was  just  appearing. 

"See,"  murmured  the  justice,  "our  good  old  minister  has  not 
come  to-day  to  preach  to  us  ;  but  has  sent  his  assistant.  There  is 
certainly  some  disagreeable  order  of  the  archbishop  to  read  to  us, 
and  our  pastor  is  not  willing  to  read  it ;  he  is  a  good  Prussian,  and 
loves  the  great  king. " 

The  young  minister  advanced  smilingly  to  meet  the  two  old  men. 

"Well,"  said  he,  with  sanctimonious  friendliness,  as  he  offered 
both  of  them  a  hand,  "allow  me  to  congratulate  you." 

"For  what?"  asked  both  of  them,  astonished. 

"  For  the  happiness  of  yesterday.  Can  there  be  a  greater  joy  for 
fathers  than  to  receive  their  sons  safe  and  sound  from  the  tumult  of 
battl??    Your  sons  h»ve  returned  home,  faithfully  fulfilling  their 


390        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

duty  to  their  new  master,  his  Catholic  majesty  of  France.  They 
abandoned  the  flag  of  the  heretic  king,  laid  aside  his  vmiform,  and 
are  again  simple  peasants,  ready  to  assist  their  fathers  in  the  field. 
Come,  my  young  friends,  that  I  may  give  you  the  blessing  of  the 
Church,  for  so  resolutely  fulfilling  your  duty. " 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  the  young  men,  who  were  just  entering 
the  churchyard.  They  obeyed  his  call  the  more  readily,  as  it  was 
the  first  welcome  they  had  received — the  first  kind  word  they  had 
heard  since  their  return.  As  they  approached  the  minister,  the 
other  men  drew  back,  and  entered  the  church  hastily,  followed  by 
their  wives  and  children. 

"You  will  see,  father,"  murmured  the  justice,  as  they  seated 
themselves  together  in  the  pew,  "that  there  is  an  order  to-day. 
Whenever  the  assistant  is  so  delighted  and  friendly,  there  is  some- 
thing wrong.  They  are  certainly  meditating  some  villanous  trick 
against  Frederick,  and  therefore  our  good  pastor  is  not  here. " 

Tlie  justice  had  prophesied  aright.  When  the  services  were  over, 
and  the  congregation  about  to  leave  the  church,  the  assistant  again 
mounted  the  pulpit,  and  desired  them  to  remain  for  a  while,  and 
hear  what  he  had  to  communicate,  in  the  name  of  the  archbishop, 
Sir  Clement  Augustus  of  Bavaria. 

"His  eminence,  the  most  honorable  archbishop,  sends  his  dear 
and  faithful  children  the  holy  blessing  and  salutation  of  the  Church. 
These  are  his  words:  'We,  Clement  Augustus,  archbishop  of  Ba- 
varia, entreat  and  command  our  children  in  Christ  to  be  faithful  to 
their  new  government  and  their  new  king,  Louis  XV.  of  France, 
whose  apostolic  majesty  has  taken  the  sword  of  the  Lord  into  his 
blessed  hand,  to  fight  the  enemies  of  the  Church,  and  to  chastise 
and  punish  the  rebellious  heretic  prince  who  has  arbitrarily  named 
himself  King  of  Prussia.  God's  anger  is  against  him,  and  He  will 
crush  and  destroy  the  presumptuous  mockers  of  the  Lord.  Woe 
unto  them  who  will  not  listen  to  God's  voice,  who  in  their  mad 
blindness  cling  to  this  heretic  !  Woe  unto  you  if,  in  the  delusion  of 
your  hearts,  you  still  offer  him  love  and  faith !  You  are  released 
from  all  duty  to  him  as  subjects,  and  you  now  have  the  blessing  of 
the  Church.  I,  as  your  shepherd,  made  so  by  the  holy  Pope  of 
Rome,  command  you,  therefore,  to  be  faithful  to  your  new  master 
— pray  that  God  may  bless  his  arms,  and  grant  him  victory  over  his 
ungodly  enemy.  My  anger  and  dire  punishment  shall  reach  any  one 
who  refuses  to  obey  this  command.  He  who  dares  to  stand  by  the 
heretic  king,  is  himself  a  heretic,  and  a  rebellious  subject  of  the 
Church.  Be  on  your  guard ;  heavy  punishment  shall  meet  those 
who  dare  to  rejoice  over  the  fame  of  the  so-called  great  Frederick. 
Such  rejoicing  will  be  regarded  as  blasphemy  against  the  holy 


THE  BRAVE  FATHERS  AND  THE  COWARDLY  SONS.   391 

Mother  Church.  To  conclude,  we  remain  your  loving  fathei,  and 
send  our  dear  children  in  Christ  our  most  gracious  love  and  greeting. ' " 

The  men  listened  to  the  message  of  the  fanatic  archbishop  with 
gloomy  faces  and  downcast  eyes ;  but  the  twelve  boys,  who  at  first 
stood  alone  in  the  aisle,  not  daring  to  seat  themselves  with  the  others, 
now  gazed  boldly  and  triumphantly  around,  seeming  to  ask  if  the 
villagers  did  not  now  acknowledge  that  they  had  acted  wisely  in 
returning. 

With  renewed  courage,  and  somewhat  proudly,  they  were  the 
first  to  leave  the  church,  and  placed  themselves  in  two  rows  at  the 
door.  While  the  congregation  was  passing  by  they  invited  their 
dear  friends  and  relations  to  meet  them  that  afternoon  under  the 
great  linden,  where  they  would  hold  a  little  festival  to  celebrate 
their  safe  return. 

"We  shall  come,"  said  the  men,  with  earnest,  solemn  voices. 
"  We  will  be  there, ''  said  the  mothers,  gazing  with  tearful  eyes  at  the 
triumphant  faces  of  their  sons.  The  young  maidens  whom  the  boys 
invited  to  dance,  passed  them  in  silence. 

Old  Buschman,  alone,  did  not  answer  his  son's  invitation,  nor 
did  he  follow  the  rest  to  the  village,  but  turned  to  the  side  of  the 
churchyard  where  his  wife  was  buried.  He  seated  himself  upon 
her  grave,  and  murmured  a  few  words  with  trembling  lips,  raising 
his  face  toward  heaven.  A  sob  escaped  him  every  now  and  then, 
and  the  tears  rolled  slowly  from  his  eyes.  From  time  to  time  he 
wrung  his  hands,  as  if  bewailing  his  sorrow  to  God  and  beseeching 
His  mercy,  then  brushed  away  his  tears — angry  with  himself  for 
being  so  moved. 

He«at  there  a  long,  long  time,  struggling  with  his  grief— alone 
with  God  and  his  shame.  Approaching  steps  aroused  him ;  he 
looked  up.  The  village  justice  stood  before  him,  and  gazed  at  him 
with  a  melancholy  smile. 

"  I  knew  I  would  find  you  here.  Father  Buschman,  and  I  came 
for  you.  The  time  is  come ;  we  are  all  assembled  on  the  square 
awaiting  you. " 

"I  come  !"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  stood  up  resolutely,  giving  a 
last  loving  farewell  glance  at  his  wife's  grave. 

The  old  man  no  longer  needed  his  friend's  arm  to  support  him, 
his  steps  were  firm  ;  his  form  manly  and  erect,  his  venerable  coun- 
tenance glowed  with  energy. 

By  the  side  of  the  village  justice  he  walked  to  the  square,  under 
the  great  linden.  There  eveiy  thing  looked  bright  and  gay.  The 
boys  had  taken  advantage  of  the  dinner  hour  to  make  worthy  prepa- 
rations for  their  festival.  They  had  brought  fresh  evergreens  from 
the  woods,  and  had  made  wreaths  and  festooned  them  from  tree  to 


393       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  Htt  FAMILY. 

tree  around  the  square.  The  ground  was  covered  prettily  with 
flowers  and  leaves,  and  the  bench  under  the  tree  was  decorated  with 
a  wreath  of  field-flowers. 

On  one  side  of  the  square  stood  several  tables  covered  with  bot- 
tles of  wine  and  beer  and  cake  and  bread  ;  not  far  from  the  tables 
was  a  throne  adorned  with  flowers,  where  sat  the  fiddler,  gazing 
proudly  around  him,  like  a  king  who  knows  he  is  the  crowning 
point  of  the  feast. 

It  certainly  had  been  a  long  time  since  the  merry  sound  of  the 
fiddle  had  been  heard  in  the  village  of  Brtinen.  The  throne  was 
surrounded  by  little  boys  and  girls  listening  with  wondering  delight 
at  the  gay  music.  But  the  grown  girls  stood  afar  off  and  did  not 
look  even  once  at  the  enticing  fiddler,  but  hid  themselves  timidly 
behind  the  mothei-s,  who  were  standing  with  stern  faces  gazing  at 
the  groups  of  men  waiting  anxiously  on  the  other  side  of  the  square. 

The  stillness  and  univei*sal  silence  began  at  last  to  make  the  bo^'s 
uneasy.  They  had  tried  in  vain  to  engage  the  men  in  conversation. 
They  received  no  answer  to  their  questions,  and  when  they  turned 
to  the  women  and  the  maidens,  they  also  remained  dumb.  The 
returned  soldiers  then  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  square  to  talk  to 
the  fiddler  and  the  children ;  but  when  they  began  to  fondle  and 
play  with  the  little  ones,  they  were  called  by  their  fathers  and 
mothers  and  bade  to  remain  at  their  side. 

The  boys  gazed  question ingly  at  one  another. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know  what  this  means  ;  are  we  to  remain  stand- 
ing here  all  night?"  muttered  one  of  them. 

"  It  apjiears  to  me  that  they  ai'e  waiting  for  some  one, "  murmured 
another. 

"  Tliey  are  expecting  my  father, "  said  Charles  Henry  ;  "  and  see, 
there  he  comes  from  the  churchyard.     The  justice  went  for  him. " 

When  the  old  man  arrived  at  the  square  the  men  advanced  to 
meet  him,  conducted  him  gravely  to  the  bench  imder  the  great  lin- 
den, and  assisted  him  to  stand  upon  it.  There  he  towered  above 
them,  and  his  pale,  venerable  face,  his  silver  hairs  were  visible  to  all. 
Every  eye  was  directed  to  him,  and  breathless  silence  ensued.  The 
old  man  raised  his  arm  and  pointed  toward  the  side  where  the 
twelve  boys  stood. 

"  Come  to  me,  Charles  Henry  Buschman, "  he  said,  solemnly  ;  and 
as  his  son  advanced  rapidly  to  him,  he  continued  :  "  I  ask  you  in  the 
name  of  God,  if  what  you  told  me  yesterday  is  true?  Have  you 
secretly  left  the  fiag  of  your  king,  our  sovereign — the  great  King 
Frederick  of  Prussia?  Is  it  true  that  you  have  forsaken  your  regi- 
ment and  the  flag  to  which  you  swore  to  be  faithful?" 

"It  is  true,"  said  Charles  Henry,  with  assumed  daring,  "but  we 


THE  BRaVK  fathers  AND  THE  COWARDLY  SONS.  393 

were  not  only  justified  in  doing  so — our  duty  compelled  us.  We  are 
no  longer  Prussian  subjects,  but  subjects  of  the  King  of  France. 
You  all  heard  to-day  what  the  minister  read  to  us  in  church — how 
the  archbishop  commanded  us  to  be  faithful  to  our  new  sovereign. 
We  could  no  longer  wear  the  Prussian  uniform  or  be  Prussian  sol- 
diers, therefore  we  returned  to  our  village. " 

"You  returned  as  dishonored,  faithless  soldiers!"  cried  the  old 
man,  looking  angrily  at  his  son — "  you  returned  covered  with  shame 
— miserable  deserters — to  the  disgrace  of  your  fathers,  mothers,  your 
brothers,  sisters,  sweethearts,  and  your  friends.  You  have  deserted 
the  flag  of  your  rightful  king,  to  whom  you  swore  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance— an  oath  which  God  received,  and  which  no  man  can  annul. 
Men  of  Brilneu  !  shall  we  stand  this  shame  that  our  sons  bring  upon 
us?  Shall  the  world  point  their  fingers  at  us  and  say:  'These  are 
the  fathers  of  soldiers  who  deserted  their  regiment,  and  were  false 
to  their  king?'" 

"  No  !"  cried  they  all,  as  with  one  voice — "  no,  we  will  not  stand 
this — we  will  have  no  deserters  as  sons  !" 

The  old  man  bowed  his  head  in  silence ;  then  turned  slowly  to 
the  side  where  the  women  stood. 

"  Women  and  maidens  of  Briinen  1  Will  you  allow  your  sons  and 
brothers  who  are  covered  with  shame,  to  stay  amongst  you?  Will 
you  receive  the  deserters  in  your  houses  and  at  your  tables ?  Will 
you  oj)en  your  arms  to  them  and  call  them  sons  and  brothers?" 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  women  and  maidens,  simultaneously;  "we 
will  not  receive  them  in  our  houses,  or  at  our  tables.  We  will  have 
no  desei'ters  for  sons  or  brothers !" 

The  old  man  stood  erect,  and,  as  if  inspired  with  a  mighty  en- 
thusiasm, raised  his  arm  toward  heaven,  and  his  countenance 
beamed  with  holy  light. 

"Tliey  must  return  to  their  flag,"  he  cried,  in  a  commanding 
voice.  "With  your  blood  you  must  wash  the  shame  from  your 
brows,  and  from  ours.  If  God  preserves  your  lives,  and  you  redeem 
your  honor  as  brave  soldiers  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  then  and  then 
only  we  will  receive  you  as  our  sons  and  welcome  you  to  our  arms. " 

"So  shall  it  be  !"  cried  the  men  and  the  women,  and  the  maidens 
murmured  their  acquiescence. 

The  old  man  stepped  from  the  bench  and  walked  forward  slowly 
to  the  other  side  of  the  square  where  the  twelve  young  men  were 
standing  gazing  at  him  with  terrified  faces. 

"Return  !"  cried  the  old  man,  stretching  his  arm  toward  them — 
"  return  to  the  flag  of  your  king  ;  we  want  no  deserters  amongst  us  j 
away  with  you !" 

"Away  with  you  1"  cried  the  men — "away  from  our  villftgel" 
26 


394       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

The  children,  influenced  by  their  parents,  cried  out  with  shrill 
voices :  "Away  from  our  village — away  !" 

The  youths  were  at  first  stunned,  and  gazed  with  staring  eyes  at 
the  crowd  of  angry  faces  and  flashing  eyes  which  menaced  them, 
then  seized  with  terror,  they  fled. 

"  Away  with  you  !  away  with  the  deserters  !"  was  thundered  after 
them.  "Away  with  you!"  cried  their  mothers,  fathers,  brothers, 
sisters,  and  friends. 

This  fearful  cry  sounded  to  them  like  the  peal  of  the  last  judg- 
ment. With  ti'embling  knees,  and  faces  pale  as  death,  they  rushed 
down  the  principal  street  of  the  village.  The  crowd  started  after 
them,  and  like  the  howling  of  a  storm,  shouted  behind  them : 
"Away  with  you  ! — away  with  the  deserters !" 

On  they  ran,  as  if  pursued  by  furies,  farther,  farther  down  the 
street,  but  the  villagers  still  chased  them.  Once  only  Charles  Henry 
dared  to  look  around  at  the  pursuers.  It  was  a  fearful  sight.  At 
the  head  of  the  rest  he  saw  his  old  father,  with  his  pale  face,  his 
white  hair  flying  in  the  wind  ;  raising  his  arms  threateningly 
toward  him,  he  cried  out  in  a  thundering  voice  :  "  Away  with  you  I 
— away  with  the  deserters  !" 

Charles  Henry  rushed  onward — a  cry  of  terror  escaped  his  lips, 
and  he  fled  like  a  madman. 

They  had  passed  the  borders  of  the  village — it  was  quiet  behind 
them — they  dared  to  look  back — they  were  alone.  But  on  the  boun- 
dary-line the  villagers  stood — their  faces  turned  toward  the  fugi- 
tives— and  like  the  distant  croakings  of  a  raven  there  sounded  in 
the  air  :  "Away  with  you  ! — away  with  the  deserters !" 

Breathless,  with  tottering  knees,  the  boys  sank  down— with  hol- 
low eyes,  speechless  with  terror,  sorrow,  and  humility,  they  gazed 
at  each  other. 

They  did  not  dare  return  to  the  village.  Perhaps  to  appease  the 
anger  of  their  relations,  perhaps  because  they  repented  of  their  cow- 
ardice, they  returned  to  their  regiment,  acknowledged  their  crime, 
and  prayed  for  forgiveness. 

TTius  the  brave  fathers  of  the  village  of  Briinen  punished  their 
cowardly  sons,  and  drove  the  dishonored  and  faithless  boys  to  their 
duty,  perhaps  to  their  death.* 

*Tbi8  account  is  historicaL 


THE  TRAITOR'S  BETRAYAL.  395 

CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    TRAITOR'S    BETRAYAL. 

Count  Ranuzi  was  alone  in  his  apartments.  He  sat  at  his  writ- 
ing-table reading  over  the  two  letters  he  had  just  written  ;  a  trium- 
phant smile  was  upon  his  lip  as  he  finished.  "It  will  succeed," 
murmured  he,  softly ;  "  we  will  take  Magdeburg  without  a  blow, 
and  thus  deprive  the  King  of  Prussia  of  his  most  valuable  fortress. 
The  plan  cannot  miscarry ;  and  then  I  have  only  to  convince  the 
empress  that  I  was  the  soul  of  this  undertaking — that  I  led  the 
intrigue.  Ah,  I  shall  succeed  at  last — I  shall  occupy  a  position 
worthy  of  me — and  as  general  of  our  order  I  shaU  rule  the  world.  I 
shall  earn  this  title  at  Magdeburg — there  I  will  build  my  throne — 
there  I  will  reign  !  But  I  must  consider  it  all  once  more,  to  see  if 
no  error,  no  mistake,  has  escaped  me.  I  first  formed  a  connection 
with  the  oflScer  Von  Kimsky,  an  Austrian  prisoner,  because  through 
him  I  could  make  connections  between  the  town  and  the  citadel. 
Kimsky,  at  my  wish,  made  some  of  his  town  friends  acquainted 
with  the  officers  of  the  citadel.  It  was  then  necessary  to  give  these 
new  friends  some  clew,  some  aim  that  would  appear  innocent  to 
them,  and  conceal  the  real  plan.  I  chose  Trenck  as  the  protecting 
shield  for  my  imdertaking.  To  inspire  him  with  confidence  in  my 
agents,  I  obtained  a  sort  of  credential  letter  from  Princess  Amelia, 
and  interested  her  in  my  cause.  She  provided  me  with  money, 
and  gave  me,  besides  the  one  to  Trenck,  a  letter  of  recommendation 
to  a  sure,  trustworthy  friend  in  Magdeburg.  I  was  now  much 
nearer  my  design.  On  the  pretence  of  working  for  Trenck,  I  worked 
for  myself,  for  my  position  of  general  of  the  Jesuits,  and  for  a  for- 
tress for  my  empress.  And  thus  far  all  my  plans  have  succeeded. 
Trenck  has  formed  a  connection  with  three  Prussian  officers  of  the 
citadel.  These,  touched  with  sympathy  for  his  pitiful  condition, 
have  determined  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  release  him,  and  are, 
therefore,  in  constant  companionship  with  those  whom  Trenck  calls 
his  friends.  These,  in  the  mean  time,  are  my  agents  and  subordi- 
nates ;  they  act  for  me  while  acting  for  Trenck  ;  the  Prussian  officers 
do  not  anticipate  that,  in  helping  Trenck  to  his  freedom,  they  are 
helping  the  Empress  of  Austria  to  a  new  fortress.  But  so  it  is. 
There  is  no  error  in  my  plan,  it  will  succeed.  I  can  rely  on  Trenck  ; 
he  is  a  subject  of  Maria  Theresa,  and  his  thirst  for  revenge  is 
mighty.  He  will  gain  a  fortress  for  his  empress.  The  avenger, 
through  whom  God  has  chosen  to  punish  this  arrogant,  heretical 
king,  will  arise  from  the  depths  of  a  subterranean  prison.     All  that 


396       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

is  now  left  to  be  done  is  to  acquaint  Vienna  with  the  information  of 
this  undertaking,  so  that  we  may  be  assured  that  an  Austrian  regi- 
ment will  be  in  the  vicinity  of  Magdeburg  at  the  proper  time,  and 
storm  the  citadel  at  a  sign  from  us,  and  not  have  that,  which  we 
had  taken  by  strategy,  torn  from  us  by  the  King  of  Pnissia's  superior 
force.  Now  is  a  favorable  time  for  this.  For  Frederick,  the  hu- 
miliated, defeated  king,  is  many  miles  from  Magdeburg ;  he  has 
been  compelled  to  raise  the  siege  of  Dresden,  and  the  Austrian  troops 
are  lying  there  like  the  Russians  at  Frankfort.  Nor  are  the  French 
far  oflf.  All  these  armies  will  be  prepared  to  hasten  to  our  aid.  All 
that  now  remains  to  be  done  is  to  get  this  news  safely  to  Vienna. 
But  how  to  accomplish  this  is  a  hard  question.  It  were  well  could 
I  go  myself.  But  I  am  a  prisoner  of  war,  and,  imtil  Magdeburg  is 
in  our  power,  this  chain  will  clog  me.  Another  must  be  sent — a 
messenger  full  of  courage,  determination,  and  hardihood.  I  have 
said  this  in  my  letter  to  Captain  von  Kimsky  ;  he  must  seek  such  a 
man  amongst  our  sworn  friends  of  the  citadel,  and  give  him  the 
sheet  of  paper  I  send  in  my  letter.  How  harmless,  how  insignifi- 
cant this  sheet  of  paper  seems  !  and  still,  were  it  to  fall  in  the  King 
of  Prussia's  hands,  it  would  save  him  a  strong  fortress  and  several 
millions  of  thalers,  for  all  the  money  of  the  Dresden  treasury  was 
brought  to  Magdeburg  for  safe-keeping.  Ah  !  ah  !  how  much  would 
Frederick  give  for  these  two  lines  of  writing,  and  how  richly  would 
he  reward  him  who  gave  him  the  key  to  it !  I  will  send  the  key  by 
a  different  messenger,  and  therefore  this  second  letter.  But  even  if 
both  my  messengers  were  intercepted,  all  is  not  lost.  I  have  notified 
Trenck  also  to  write  to  Vienna  for  money  and  help.  He  must  con- 
tinue to  be  the  shield  behind  which  we  intrench  ourselves.  Should 
the  undertaking  miscarrj',  we  will  lay  it  upon  Trenck ;  should  it 
succeed,  it  will  be  through  me,  and  I  will  not  be  tardy  in  claiming 
my  reward.  The  general  of  our  order  is  old  ;  should  he,  however, 
persist  in  living,  his  tenacious  nature  must — "  He  did  not  dare  to 
finish  the  sentence ;  but  a  wild,  demoniac  smile  supplied  the  words 
his  lips  dared  not  utter.  He  arose  and  walked  several  times  up  and 
down  his  chamber,  completely  lost  in  ambitious  dreams  of  the 
future,  for  whose  realization,  as  a  true  Jesuit,  he  shunned  no  means, 
mindful  of  the  motto  of  their  order  :  "  The  end  sanctifies  the  means. " 
He  saw  a  ring  upon  his  hand — that  ring,  full  of  significance, 
before  which  kings  had  often  bowed,  which  was  to  the  Jesuits  what 
the  crown  is  to  the  king — the  sacred  sign  of  power  and  glorj' — the 
indisputable  sign  of  invisible  but  supreme  power.  He  saw  himself, 
this  ring  upon  his  hand,  subjugating  nations,  rewarding  his  friends, 
punishing  his  enemies.  He  suddenly  awoke  from  his  dreams,  and 
rpiijembered  the  presejjj;  with  3  weary  smile. 


THE  TRAITOH'S  BETRAYAL.  Se"? 

"  I  must  not  forget,  in  dreams  of  the  future,  the  necessity  f or 
action.  I  have  many  important  things  to  do  this  day.  I  must  take 
these  letters  to  Marietta,  see  her  address  and  post  them  ;  then  I  must 
seek  La  TrouflBe  and  receive  from  her  leave  of  absence,  on  the  plea 
of  visiting  a  sick  friend  at  Magdeburg.  This  will  be  a  tedious  un- 
dertaking, for  she  will  not  agree  willingly  to  a  separation  without 
great  persuasion.  I  have  much  influence  over  her,  and  a  woman  in 
love  cannot  refuse  a  request  to  the  object  of  her  tenderness.  I  will 
obtain,  through  Madame  du  TroufHe,  a  near  and  influential  relative 
of  the  commandant  of  Berlin,  pemii.ssion  to  visit  Magdeburg,  and 
through  Marietta  Taliazuchi  I  will  post  my  tsvo  important  letters." 
He  laughed  aloud  as  he  thought  of  these  two  women,  so  tenderly 
devoted  to  him,  both  so  willing  to  be  deceived  by  hinr. 

"They  love  me  in  very  different  ways, '"said  he^  as  he  finished 
his  toilet  preparatory  to  going  out.  "  Marietta  Taliazuchi  with  the 
humility  of  a  slave,  Louise  du  TrouSle  with  the  gi-ateful  passion  of 
an  elderly  coquette.  It  would  be  a  problem  for  a  good  arithmetician 
to  solve,  which  of  these  two  loves  would  weigh  most.  Marietta's 
love  is  certainly  the  more  pleasant  and  comfortable,  because  the 
more  humble.  Like  a  faithful  dog  she  lies  at  my  feet;  if  I  push 
her  from  me,  she  comes  back,  lies  humbly  down,  and  licks  the  foot 
that  kicked  her.     Away,  then,  to  her,  to  my  tender  Marietta." 

Hiding  his  letters  in  his  breast,  he  took  his  hat  and  hastened  in 
the  direction  of  Marietta's  dwelling.  She  received  him  in  her  usual 
impassioned  manner ;  she  told  him  how  she  had  suffered  in  their 
long  separation  ;  how  the  thought  that  he  might  be  untrue  to  her, 
that  he  loved  another  had  filled  her  with  anguish. 

Ranuzi  laughed.  "  Still  the  same  old  song,  Marietta ;  always 
full  of  doubt  and  distrust?  Does  the  lioness  still  thirst  after  my 
blood?  would  she  lacerate  my  faithless  heart?" 

Kneeling,  as  she  often  did,  at  his  feet,  she  rested  her  arms  on 
his  knees  ;  then  dropping  her  head  on  her  folded  hands,  she  looked 
up  at  him. 

"  Can  you  swear  that  you  are  true  to  me?"  said  she,  in  a  strange, 
sharp  tone.  "  Can  you  swear  that  you  love  no  other  woman  but 
me?" 

"Yes,  I  can  swear  it !"  said  he,  laughing. 

"Then  do  so,"  cried  she,  earnestly. 

"  Tell  me  an  oath   and  I  will  repeat  it  after  you. " 

She  looked  at  him  firmly  for  several  moments,  and  strange 
shadows  crossed  her  emotional  countenance. 

Ranuzi  did  not  perceive  them  ;  he  was  too  inattentive,  too  confi- 
dent of  success,  to  entertain  doubt  or  distrust. 

"Hear  the  oath!"  said  she,  after  a  pause.     "'I,  Count  Carl* 


398       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Ranuzi,  swear  that  I  love  no  other  woman  but  Marietta  Taliazuchi ; 
I  swear  that,  since  I  have  loved  her,  I  have  not  nor  ever  shall  kiss 
•r  breathe  words  of  love  to  any  other  woman.  May  God's  anger 
reach  me,  if  my  oath  is  false  !'" 

The  words  fell  slowly,  singly  from  her  lips,  and  she  gazed  with 
unflinching  eyes  up  at  him. 

Not  a  muscle  in  his  countenance  moved.  Laughing  gayly,  he 
repeated  her  words ;  then  bent  and  kissed  her  black,  shiny  hair. 
"Are  you  satisfied  now,  you  silly  child?" 

"I  am  satisfied,  for  you  have  sworn,"  said  she,  rising  from  her 
knees. 

"Will  this  quiet  you  now,  Marietta?" 

"Yes,  forever." 

"Well,  then,  now  a  moment  to  business.  There  are  two  impor- 
tant letters,  my  beautiful  darling.  You  see  how  boundless  my  love 
for  you  is — I  confide  these  letters  to  your  care,  and  entreat  you  to 
post  them  as  usual.  My  heart  and  my  secrets  are  in  your  lovely 
hands. " 

He  kissed  the  hands,  and  gave  her  the  letters. 

Marietta  took  and  looked  at  them  in  a  timid,  fearful  manner. 

"Do  they  contain  dangerous  secrets?"  said  she. 

"  Dangerous  in  the  extreme,  my  lovely  one. " 

"Were  they  intercepted  and  opened,  would  you  be  liable  to 
death  ?"  said  she,  in  a  low,  trembling  voice. 

He  saw  in  these  words  only  her  solicitude  and  love  for  him. 

"  Certainly,  I  would  be  lost — I  would  have  to  die  were  these  let- 
ters opened.  But  fear  not,  my  beauteous  Marietta — they  will  not 
be  opened  ;  no  one  would  dream  of  intercepting  the  harmless  letters 
you  direct  to  your  friends  at  Magdeburg.  Apart  from  that,  no  one 
is  aware  of  our  close  connection.  We  have  carefully  guarded  the 
holy  secret  of  our  love  ;  when  your  husband  returns  from  Italy,  this 
bad  world  will  have  no  evil  rumors  to  tell  of  us,  and  you  will  be 
enclosed  in  his  arms  as  his  faithful  wife.     When  does  he  come?" 

"I  expect  him  in  three  weeks." 

"  Many  glorious,  quiet  evenings  will  we  enjoy  together  before  his 
return.     And  now,  farewell — I  mvist  leave  you." 

"You  must  leave  me?" 

"  I  must.  Marietta. " 

"And  where  are  you  going?"  said  she,  looking  at  him  earnestly. 

"Jealous  again,"  said  he,  laughing.  "Calm  yourself.  Marietta, 
I  go  to  no  woman.     Besides  this,  have  you  not  my  oath?" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  she,  with  a  sharp  questioning  look. 

"  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet  some  friends — the  meeting  takes 
place  in  the  house  of  a  Catholic  priest.    Are  you  satisfied,  Marietta? 


THE  TRAITOR'S  BETRAYAL.  399 

or  do  you  still  fear  fhat  some  dangerous  rendezvous  calls  me  from 
you?" 

"  I  fear  nothing, "  said  she,  smiling  ;  "  you  have  reassured  me. " 

"  Then,  my  beloved,  I  entreat  you  to  command  me  to  go,  for  if 
you  do  not,  though  I  know  I  ought,  I  cannot  leave  you.  But,  no — 
first  I  will  see  you  direct  these  letters. " 

"You  shall,"  said  she,  taking  a  pen  and  directing  them. 

Ranuzi  took  the  letters  and  examined  them. 

"  This  simple  feminine  address  is  the  talisman  that  protects  me 
and  my  secret.  And  this  I  owe  to  you,  my  darling,  to  you  alone. 
But  will  you  finish  your  work  of  mercy?  Will  you  post  these  letters 
at  once?" 

"  I  will  do  so.  Carlo. " 

"Will  you  swear  it?"  said  he,  laughing  ;  "swear  it  to  me  by  our 
love. " 

"  I  swear  it — swear  it  by  my  love. " 

"  And  now,  farewell.  Marietta !— farewell  for  to-day.  To-morrow 
I  hope  to  see  you  again. " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  whispered  words  of  love  and  tender- 
ness in  her  ear.  He  did  not  notice,  in  his  impatience  to  leave,  how 
cold  and  quiet  she  was.  He  took  his  hat,  and  bowing  gayly  left  the 
room. 

She  stood  where  he  had  left  her,  her  arms  hanging  listlessly  at 
her  side,  her  head  bowed  upon  her  breast.  She  listened  intently  to 
his  every  movement.  Now  he  was  on  the  last  stair,  now  in  the  hall 
— when  he  had  crossed  it  he  would  be  at  the  street  door.  With  a 
wild  shriek  she  fled  from  the  room,  and  hastened  down  the  steps. 

"  Carlo  !  Carlo !  wait  a  moment !" 

His  hand  was  on  the  door-knob  ;  he  stood  still  and  looked  back. 
She  was  by  his  side — pale,  with  burning  eyes  and  trembling  lips, 
she  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  kissed  him  passionately. 

"  Farewell,  my  Carlo ! — farewell,  thou  lover  of  my  soul,  thou 
light  of  my  eyes !" 

She  kissed  his  mouth,  his  eyes,  his  hands ;  she  pressed  him  to 
her  heart,  and  then  she  pushed  him  from  her,  saying,  in  cold,  rough 
tones,  "  Go  !  go,  I  say  !" 

Without  again  looking  at  him  she  hurried  up  the  stairs.  Rauuzi, 
laughing  and  shaking  his  head  at  her  foolishjiess,  left  the  hous^ 
with  a  contented  aijd  assvired  he^rt. 


400        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 
CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  ACCUSATION. 

This  time  Marietta  did  not  call  him  back  ;  she  did  not  gaze  after 
him  from  the  window,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do  ;  she  stood,  pale 
as  death,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  with  panting  breath,  with 
flashing  eyes  ;  motionless,  but  with  eager  and  expectant  mien,  as  if 
listening  to  something  afar  off. 

To  what  was  Marietta  listening?  Perhaps  to  the  echo  of  his  step 
in  the  silent,  isolated  street;  perhaps  to  the  memories  which,  like 
croaking  birds  of  death,  hovered  over  her  head,  as  if  to  lacerate  and 
destroy  even  her  dead  happiness ;  perhaps  she  listened  to  those  whis- 
pering voices  which  resounded  in  her  breast  and  accused  Ranuzi  of 
faithlessness  and  treachery.  And  was  he,  then,  really  guilty?  Had 
he  committed  a  crime  worthy  of  death? 

Marietta  was  still  motionless,  hearkening  to  these  whispered 
voices  in  her  breast. 

"I  will  deliberate  yet  once  more,"  said  she,  walking  slowly 
through  the  room,  and  sinking  down  upon  the  divan.  "  I  will  sit 
again  in  judgment  upon  him,  and  my  heart,  which  in  the  fury  of 
its  pain  still  loves  him,  my  heart  shall  be  his  judge." 

And  now  she  called  back  once  again  every  thing  to  her  remem- 
brance. The  golden,  sunny  stream  of  her  happy  youth  passed  in 
review  before  her,  and  the  precious,  blissful  days  of  her  first  inno- 
cent love.  She  recalled  all  the  agony  which  this  love  had  caused 
her,  to  whose  strong  bonds  she  had  ever  returned,  and  which  she  had 
never  been  able  to  crush  out  of  her  heart.  She  thought  of  the  day 
in  which  she  had  first  seen  Ranuzi  in  Berlin  ;  how  their  hearts  had 
found  each  other,  and  the  old  love,  like  a  radiant  Phoenix,  had  risen 
from  the  ashes  of  the  past,  to  open  heaven  or  hell  to  them  both.  She 
remembered  with  scornful  agitation  those  happy  days  of  their  new- 
found youthful  love ;  she  repeated  tlie  ardent  oaths  of  everlasting 
faith  and  love  which  Ranuzi  had  voluntarily  offered;  she  remem- 
bered how  she  had  warned  him,  how  she  had  declared  that  she 
would  revenge  his  treachery  and  inconstancy  upon  him ;  how 
indolently,  how  carelessly  he  had  laughed,  and  called  her  his 
tigress,  his  anaconda.  She  then  recalled  how  suddenly  she  had 
felt  his  love  grow  cold,  how  anxiously  she  had  looked  around 
to  discover  what  had  changed  him — she  could  detect  nothing.  But 
an  accident  came  to  her  assistance — a  bad,  malicious  acident. 
During  the  war  there  were  no  operas  given  in  Berlin,  and  Marietta 
was  entirely  unoccupied ;  for  some  time  she  had  been  giving  singing 


THE  ACCUSATION.  401 

lessons — perhaps  for  distraction,  perhaps  to  increase  her  income ; 
she  had,  however,  carefully  preserved  this  secret  from  Ranuzi — in 
the  unselfishness  of  her  love  she  did  not  wish  him  to  know  that  she 
had  need  of  gold,  lest  he  might  offer  her  assistance. 

One  of  her  first  scholai-s  was  Camilla  von  Kleist,  the  daughter  of 
Madame  du  Trouffle,  and  soon  teacher  and  scholar  became  warm 
friends.  Camilla,  still  banished  by  her  mother  to  the  solitude  of 
tlie  nursery,  complained  to  her  new  friend  of  the  soitows  of  her 
home  and  the  weariness  of  her  life.  Carried  away  by  Marietta's 
sympathy  and  flattering  friendship,  the  young  girl  had  complained 
to  the  stranger  of  her  mother  ;  in  the  desire  to  make  herself  appear 
an  interesting  sacrifice  to  motherly  tj'i-anny,  she  accused  that  mother 
relentlessly  ;  she  told  Madame  Taliazuchi  that  she  was  always  treated 
as  a  child  because  her  mother  still  wished  to  appear  young  ;  that  she 
was  never  allowed  to  be  seen  in  the  saloon  in  the  evening,  lest  she 
might  ravish  the  worshippers  and  lovers  of  her  mother.  Having 
gone  so  far  in  her  confidences,  the  pitiable  daugliter  of  this  light- 
minded  mother  went  so  far  as  to  speak  of  her  mother's  adorers.  The 
last  and  most  dangerous  of  these,  the  one  she  hated  most  bitterly, 
because  he  came  most  frequently  and  occupied  most  of  her  mother's 
time  and  thoughts,  she  declared  to  be  the  Count  Ranuzi. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  those  fearful  torments  which  Marietta 
Taliazuchi  had  for  some  months  endured — tortures  which  increased 
with  the  conviction  that  there  was  truly  an  understanding  between 
Ranuzi  and  Madame  du  Trouffle ;  that  Ranuzi,  under  the  pretence 
of  being  overwhelmed  with  important  business,  refused  to  pass  the 
evening  with  her,  yet  went  regularly  every  evening  to  Madame  du 
Trouffle. 

Marietta  had  endured  this  torture  silently  ;  she  denied  herself  the 
consolation  of  complaining  to  any  one  ;  she  had  the  courage,  with 
smiling  lips,  to  dispute  the  truth  of  Camilla's  narratives,  and  to 
accuse  her  of  slander ;  she  would  have  conviction,  she  longed  for 
proof,  and  Camilla,  excited  by  her  incredulity,  promised  to 
give  it. 

One  day,  with  a  triumphant  air,  she  handed  Marietta  a  little  note 
she  had  stolen  from  her  mother's  writing-desk.  It  was  a  poem, 
written  in  French,  in  which  Ranuzi,  with  the  most  submissive 
love,  the  most  glowing  tenderness,  besought  the  beautiful  Louise  to 
allow  him  to  come  in  the  evening,  to  kneel  at  her  feet  and  worship 
as  the  faithful  worship  the  mother  of  God. 

Marietta  read  the  poem  several  times,  and  then  with  quiet  com- 
posure returned  it  to  Camilla  ;  but  her  cheeks  were  deadly  pale,  and 
her  lips  trembled  so  violently,  that  Camilla  agVed  her  kindly  if  she 
\vas  not  suffering. 


402      FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  suffer,  and  we  will  postpone  the  lesson, 
I  must  go  home  and  go  to  bed. " 

But  Marietta  did  not  go  home.  Beside  herself,  almost  senseless 
with  pain  and  rage,  she  wandered  about  through  the  streets,  medi- 
tating, reflecting  how  she  might  revenge  herself  for  this  degrada- 
tion, this  faithlessness  of  her  beloved. 

At  last  she  found  the  means;  with  firm  step,  with  crimson 
cheeks,  and  a  strange  smile  upon  her  tightly -compressed  lips,  she 
turned  toward  the  castle.  There  she  inquired  for  the  Marquis 
d'Argens,  and  Ranuzi's  evil  genius  willed  that  D'Argens  should  be 
found  at  that  time  in  Berlin — he  was  generally  only  to  be  seen  at 
Sans-Souci.  Marietta  did  not  know  the  marquis  personally,  but 
she  had  heard  many  anecdotes  of  the  intellectual  and  amiable  Pro- 
vengal ;  she  knew  that  the  marquis  and  the  king  were  warmly  at- 
tached, and  kept  up  a  constant  correspondence.  For  this  reason,  she 
addressed  herself  to  D'Argens ;  she  knew  it  was  the  easiest  and 
quickest  way  to  bring  her  communication  immediately  before  the 
king  The  marquis  received  her  kindly,  and  asked  her  to  make 
known  her  request. 

A  t  first  Marietta  was  mute,  regret  and  repentance  overcame  her ; 
for  a  moment  she  almost  resolved  to  be  silent  and  to  go  away. 
Soon,  however,  her  wrath  Avas  awakened,  and  armed  her  with  the 
courage  of  despair :  with  panting  breath,  with  strange  disordered 
haste,  she  said :  "  I  have  come  to  tell  you  a  secret — an  important 
Becret,  which  concerns  the  king." 

The  good  marquis  turned  pale,  and  asked  if  it  related  to  any 
attempt  upon  the  life  of  the  king? 

"  Not  to  his  life  ;  but  it  was  a  secret  of  the  greatest  importance, " 
she  replied.  Then,  however,  when  the  marquis  asked  her  to  make 
a  full  disclosure,  she  seemed  suddenly  to  see  Ranuzi's  handsome  face 
before  her ;  he  looked  softly,  reproachfully  at  her  with  his  great 
fathomless  eyes,  whose  glance  she  ever  felt  in  the  very  depths  of  her 
heart ;  she  was  conscious  that  the  old  love  was  again  awake  in  her, 
and  by  its  mighty  power  crowding  out  the  passion  of  revenge.  A 
lingering  hesitation  and  faint-heartedness  overcame  her — confused 
and  stammering,  she  said  she  would  only  confide  her  secret  to  the 
king  himself,  or  to  that  person  whom  the  king  would  authorize  to 
receive  it. 

The  marquis,  in  a  vivacious  manner,  pressed  her  to  speak,  and 
made  conjectures  as  to  the  quality  of  her  secret.  Marietta  found 
herself  involved  in  a  net  of  cross- questions  and  answers,  and  took 
refuge  at  last  in  absolute  silence.  She  rose  and  told  the  marquis  she 
would  return  in  eight  days,  to  know  whom  the  kin^  had  select?^  ^9 
^receive  her  coippiuniqatioB; 


THE  ACCUSATION.  403 

The  eight  days  had  now  passed,  and  Marietta  had,  during  this 
time,  many  struggles  with  her  own  heart — her  ever  newly  awaken- 
ing love  pleaded  eloquently  for  forgiveness — for  the  relinquishment 
of  all  her  plans  of  vengeance.*  She  had  almost  resolved  not  to  seek 
,  the  marquis  again,  or  if  she  did  so,  to  say  that  she  had  been  deceived 
— that  the  secret  was  nothing — that  she  had  only  been  bantered  and 
mystified.  But  now,  all  these  softer,  milder  feelings  seemed  burnt 
out  in  the  wild  fire  of  revenge  and  scorn  which  blazed  through  her 
whole  being.  "  He  is  a  traitor — a  shameless  liar  !"  she  said,  pressing 
her  small  teeth  firmly  and  passionately  together  ;  "  he  is  a  coward, 
and  has  not  the  courage  to  look  a  woman  in  the  face  and  confess  the 
truth  when  she  demands  it ;  he  is  a  perjurer,  for  he  took  the  oath 
which  I  exacted  from  him — he  swore  to  love  me  alone  and  no  other 
woman ;  he  had  the  impudent  courage  to  call  down  the  vengeance 
of  God  upon  himself  if  he  should  break  this  oath.  Why  do  I  hesi- 
tate longer?"  cried  she,  springing  from  her  seat ;  "the perjured  trai- 
tor deserves  that  my  beti'ayed  and  crushed  heart  should  avenge  itself. 
He  called  down  the  vengeance  of  God  upon  himself.  Let  it  crush 
him  to  atoms  1" 

Now  all  was  decision,  courage,  energy,  and  circumspection. 
She  took  the  two  letters  she  had  received  from  Ranuzi  and  concealed 
them  in  her  bosom,  then  dressed  herself  and  left  her  dwelling. 

With  a  firm  step  she  passed  through  the  streets  which  led  to  the 
castle.  As  she  drew  near  the  house  of  Madame  du  Trouffie,  she 
hesitated,  stood  still,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows. 

"  If  only  this  once  he  did  not  deceive  me  !  If  he  is  not  here  ;  if 
he  told  me  the  truth  !"  His  countenance  had  been  so  open,  so  calm, 
so  smiling  when  he  said  to  her  that  he  had  a  rendezvous  with  some 
friends  at  the  Catholic  priest's  ;  and  in  a  graceful,  roguish  mockery, 
asked  her  if  she  was  jealous  of  that  meeting.  No,  no  !  this  time  he 
was  true.  He  could  not  have  played  the  hypocrite  with  such  smil- 
ing composure.     Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did.  Marietta  entered 

•(  *The  marquis,  in  one  of  his  lettei-s  to  the  king,  described  his  interview  with  Ma- 
dame Taliazuchi,  with  great  vivacity  and  minuteness,  and  expressed  his  own  sus- 
picions and  conjectures;  which,  indeed,  came  very  near  the  truth,  and  proved  that, 
where  he  was  warmly  interested,  he  was  a  good  inquisitor.  He  entreated  Frederick 
not  to  1  ook  upon  the  matter  carelessly,  as  in  all  probability  there  was  treason  on  foot, 
which  extended  to  Vienna.  Madame  Taliazuchi  had  much  intercourse  in  Berlin 
with  the  captive  Italian  officers,  and  it  might  be  that  one  of  these  officers  was  carry- 
ing on  a  dangerous  correspondence  with  Vienna.  In  closing  his  letter,  the  marquis 
said :  "  Enfln,  sire,  quand  il  serait  vral  que  tout  ceci  ue  fut  qu'une  bete  italienne  qui 
se  serait  6chaufE6e,  et  qui  aurait  pris  des  chimdres  pour  des  v6rit6s,  ce  qui  pourrait 
encore  bien  etre,  cette  femme  ne  parait  rien  moins  que  prudente  et  tranquille.  Je 
crois,  cependant,  que  la  peine  qu'on  aurait  prise  de  savoir  ce  qu'elle  veut  declarer 
serait  si  16gdre,  qu'on  ne  la  regretterait  pas,  quand  meme  on  dficouvrirait  que  cette 
femme  n'eat  qu'une  folle."— "  CEuvres  de  Fr6d6ric  le  Grand,''  vol.  xix.  p.  91. 


404       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  house,  and  asked  if  Camilla  was  at  home — then  hastened  on  to 
the  door  of  Camilla's  room. 

The  young  girl  advanced  to  meet  her  with  a  joyous  greeting. 
"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Marietta.  Without  you  I  should  have 
been  condemned  to  pass  the  whole  evening  shut  up  in  my  room, 
wearying  myself  with  lx)oks.  But  I  am  resolved  what  I  will  do  in 
future.  If  mamma  in.sists  upon  my  being  a  child  still,  antl  banishes 
me  from  the  parlor  when  she  has  company,  I  will  either  run  away, 
or  I  will  invite  companj^  to  amuse  me.  My  cousin.  Lieutenant 
Kienhause,  is  again  in  Berlin ;  his  right  arm  is  wounded,  and  the 
king  has  given  him  a  furlough,  and  sent  him  home.  When  mamma 
is  in  the  saloon,  I  will  invite  my  cousin  here. "  She  laughed  merrily, 
and  drew  Marietta  dancing  forward.  "Now  I  have  company,  we 
will  laugh  and  be  happy." 

"Who  is  in  the  saloon?"  said  Marietta,  "and  why  are  you  ban- 
ished to-day?" 

"Well,  because  of  this  Italian  count — this  insufferable  Ranuzi. 
He  has  been  here  for  an  hour,  and  mamma  commanded  no  one  to  be 
admitted,  as  she  had  important  business  with  the  count. " 

"And  you  believe  that  he  will  remain  the  whole  evening?"  said 
Marietta. 

"  I  know  it ;  he  remains  every  evening. " 

Marietta  felt  a  cold  shudder  pass  over  her,  but  she  was  outwardly 
calm. 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  she,  "  you  are  indeed  to  be  pitied,  and,  if  you 
really  desire  it,  you  shall  have  my  society  ;  but  first,  I  have  a  com- 
mission to  execute,  and  then  I  will  bring  some  notes,  and  we  will 
sing  together."    She  kissed  Camilla  upon  the  brow,  and  withdrew. 

The  last  moment  of  respite  had  expired  for  Ranuzr;  there  was  no 
longer  a  ray  of  mercy  in  Marietta's  heart.  Rushing  forward,  she 
soon  reached  the  castle,  and  announced  herself  to  the  marquis.  She 
was  introduced  into  his  study,  and  the  marquis  advanced  to  meet 
hei",  smiling,  and  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  You  come  at  the  right  time,  madame, "  said  he ;  "  an  hour  since  I 
received  this  letter  from  his  majesty. " 

"Has  the  king  named  the  person  to  whom  I  am  to  confide  my 
secret?"  she  said,  hastily. 

"  Yes,  madame,  his  majesty  has  been  pleased  to  appoint  me  for 
that  purpose." 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter, "  said  Marietta,  extending  her  hand. 

The  marquis  drew  back.  "  Pardon  me, "  said  he,  "  I  never  allow  the 
king's  letters  to  pass  out  of  my  own  hands,  and  no  one  but  myself 
can  see  them.  But  I  will  read  you  what  the  king  says  in  relation 
to  this  affair,  and  you  will  surely  believe  my  word  of  honor. 


THE  ACCUSATION.  405 

Listen,  then  ;  'Soyez,  marquis,  le  depositaire  de  mes  secrets,  le  con- 
fidant des  mysteres  de  Madame  Taliazuchi,  I'oreille  du  trone,  et  le 
sanctuaire  ou  s'annonceront  les  complots  de  mes  ennemis. '  *  Ma- 
dame, you  see  that  I  am  fully  empowered  by  the  king  to  receive 
your  confidence,  and  I  am  ready  to  hear  what  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  relate."  He  led  her  to  a  divan,  and  seated  himself  op- 
posite to  her. 

"  Tell  the  king  to  be  on  his  guard  !"'  said  Marietta,  solemnly.  "  A 
great  and  wide-spread  conspiracy  threatens  him.  I  have  been  made 
a  tool  by  false  pretences  ;  by  lies  and  treachery  my  confidence  was 
surreptitiously  obtained.  Oh,  my  God  !"  cried  she,  suddenly  spring- 
ing up  ;  "now  all  is  clear.  I  was  nothing  but  an  instrument  of  his 
intrigues ;  only  the  weak  means  made  use  of  to  attain  his  object. 
He  stole  my  love,  and  made  of  it  a  comfortable,  convenient  robe 
with  which  to  conceal  his  politics.  Alas!  alas!  I  have  been  his 
postilion  de  politique. "  With  a  loud,  wild  cry,  she  sank  back  upon 
the  divan,  and  a  torrent  of  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes. 

The  marquis  sprang  up  in  terror,  and  drew  near  the  door ;  he 
was  now  fully  convinced  that  the  woman  was  mad. 

"  Madame, "  said  he,  "  allow  me  to  call  for  assistance.  You  ap- 
pear to  be  truly  suffering,  and  in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  It 
will  be  best  for  you,  without  doubt,  to  forget  all  these  political  in- 
terests, and  attend  to  your  physical  condition. " 

Marietta,  however,  had  again  recovered  her  presence  of  mind ; 
she  glanced  with  a  wan  smile  into  the  anxious  countenance  of  the 
marquis. 

"  Fear  nothing,  sir,  I  am  not  mad  ;  return  to  your  seat.  I  have 
no  weapons,  and  will  injure  no  one.  The  dagger  which  I  carry  is 
piercing  my  own  heart,  and  from  time  to  time  the  wound  pains ; 
that  is  all.  I  promise  you  to  make  no  sound,  to  be  gentle  and  calm 
— come,  then." 

The  marquis  returned,  but  seated  himself  somewhat  farther  from 
the  signora. 

"  I  tell  you, "  said  Marietta,  panting  for  breath,  "  that  he  made 
use  of  my  credulity — made  me  a  tool  of  his  political  intrigues — these 

*  "  I  will  give  the  conclusion  of  this  letter  which  the  polite  marquis  did  not  read 
aloud:  'Pour  quitter  le  style  oriental,  je  vous  avertis  que  vous  aurez  I'oreille  re- 
battue  de  misSres  et  de  petites  intrigues  de  prisonniers  obscurs  et  qui  ne  vaudront  pas 
le  temps  que  vous  perdrez  a  les  entendre.  Je  connais  ces  espfices  de  personnes  du 
genre  de  Madame  Talia^chi — elles  envisagent  les  petites  choses  comme  trfis-impor- 
tantes;  elles  sont  charm^es  de  flgurer  en  politique,  de  jouer  un  role,  de  faire  les 
capables  d'6taler  avec  faste  le  z61e  de  leur  fld61it6.  J'ai  vu  souvent  que  ces  beaux 
secrets  r6v616s  n'ont  6t6  que  des  intrigues  pour  nuire  au  tiers  ou  au  quart  &  des  gens 
auxquelles  ces  sortes  de  personnes  veulent  du  mal.  Ainsi,  quoique  cette  femme 
vous  puisse  dire,  gardez-vous  bien  d'y  ajouter  foi,  et  que  votre  cervelle  provengal  n9 
P'echauffe  pas  au  premier  brujt  de  ces  recite.' "— (Euvres,  vol  xix.,  p.  92. 


406        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

intrigues  which  threaten  the  lands  if  not  the  life  of  the  king.  The 
treason  I  will  disclose  would  place  an  important  fortress  in  the  hands 
of  the  Austrians. " 

"And  you  are  convinced  that  this  is  no  chimera?"  said  the  mar- 
quis, with  an  incredulous  smile. 

"lam  convinced  of  it,  and  I  have  the  incontestable  proof  with 
me. "  She  took  the  two  letters  which  she  had  received  from  Ranuzi, 
and  gave  them  to  the  marquis.  "  Take  them,  and  send  them  to  the 
king ,  but,  not  to-morrow,  not  when  it  is  convenient,  but  to-day  ; 
even  this  hour.  If  you  are  not  prompt,  in  eight  days  King  Frederick 
will  be  a  fortress  the  poorer.  Besides  this,  say  to  his  majesty  to  be 
ever  on  his  guard  against  the  captive  officers  in  Berlin,  especially 
on  his  guard  against  my  countryman,  Count  Ranuzi.  He  is  the  soul 
of  this  enterprise  ;  he  has  originated  this  daring  undertaking,  and, 
if  this  falls  to  pieces,  he  will  commence  anew.  He  is  a  dangerous 
enemy — a  serpent,  whose  sting  is  most  deadly,  most  to  be  feared 
when  he  seems  most  gentle,  most  quiet.  Say  to  King  Frederick  he 
will  do  well  to  protect  himself  from  the  traitor,  the  Austrian  spy, 
Ranuzi."  Marietta  stood  up,  and  bowing  to  the  marquis,  she  ad- 
vanced to  the  door.     D'Argens  held  her  back. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "if  these  things  are  really  so,  Count  Ranuzi 
is  a  man  to  be  feared,  and  we  should  make  sure  of  him." 

"He  is  indeed  a  dangerous  man,"  said  Marietta,  with  a  peculiar 
smile.  "Ask  the  beautiful  Madame  du  Trouffle ;  she  will  confirm 
my  words." 

The  black,  flashing  eyes  of  the  marquis  fixed  themselves  search- 
ingly  upon  the  face  of  the  signora.  He  remembered  that  the  king 
had  warned  him  to  be  upon  his  guard  as  to  the  communication  of 
Madame  Taliazuchi,  that  sucli  mysteries  were  often  nothing  more 
than  feigned  intrigues,  by  which  the  discoverer  sought  to  bring 
sorrow  and  downfall  to  an  enemy. 

"Ah,  signora!  I  understand  now, "said  the  marquis;  "you  did 
not  come  here  for  patriotism  or  love  for  Prussia  or  her  king,  but 
from  frantic  jealousy ;  not  to  serve  King  Frederick,  but  to  over- 
throw Ranuzi." 

]\Iarietta  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  contemptuous  expression. 

"I  am  an  Italian,"  said  she,  laconically. 

"And  the  Italians  love  revenge,"  said  the  marquis. 

"When  one  dares  to  injure  them — yes." 

"  This  Count  Ranuzi  has  dared  to  injure  you?" 

A  flash  of  scorn  flamed  for  a  moment  in  her  eyes,  then  disap- 
peared. "Would  I  otherwise  have  betrayed  him?"  said  she.  "I 
am  an  Italian,  and  you  cannot  ask  that  I  shall  feel  patriotism  for 
King  Frederick  or  for  Prussia.     Count  Ranuzi  is  my  countryman/ 


THE  ACCUSATION.  401' 

judge,  then,  how  deeply  I  have  been  injured  when  I  betray  him, 
and  give  him  over  to  death." 

"To  death?  it  is  also  then  a  crime  worthy  of  death  which  these 
letters  will  disclose  to  the  king?  You  do  not  deceive  yourself? 
Your  thirst  for  revenge  does  not  make  these  things  appear  blacker, 
more  important  than  they  really  are?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  deceive  myself.     I  speak  but  the  simple  truth. " 

"  Then, "  said  the  marquis,  with  horror,  "  it  is  dangerous  to  leave 
Ranuzi  at  liberty.  I  must  apply  to  the  commandant  of  Berlin,  and 
ask  that  he  be  aiTested  upon  my  responsibility." 

Marietta  was  already  at  the  door,  but  thf se  words  of  the  marquis 
arrested  her.  With  her  hand  resting  upon  the  bolt,  she  stood  and 
turned  her  pale  face  back  to  D'Argene.  "Certainly,  it  would  be 
best  and  surest  to  ai-rest  him  instantly,"  f>aid  she;  and  her  heart 
bounded  with  delight  when  she  said  to  herself,  with  cruel  pleasure  : 
"  When  once  arrested,  he  can  go  no  more  to  Madame  du  Trouffle. " 

The  marquis  did  not  reply,  but  he  stepped  thoughtfully  through  the 
room.  Marietta's  eyes  followed  every  movement  with  a  fiery 
glance.     At  length  the  marquis  stood  before  her. 

"  I  cannot  take  upon  myself  the  responsibility  of  arresting  this 
man.  I  do  not  know  that  these  letters,  which  I  shall  send  to  the 
king,  are  really  as  dangerous  f-s  you  say.  The  king  must  decide ; 
I  will  send  them  off  by  a  courier  to-day.  But,  in  every  event, 
Ranuzi  must  be  watched,  and  you  shall  be  his  guard.  You  must  see 
that  he  does  not  escape.  I  make  you  answerable.  Eanuzi  must 
not  leave  Berlin  ,  and  when  the  kings  answer  is  received,  he  must 
be  found  here." 

"You  shall  find  him  with  me,  "  said  she  ;  "and  if  not,  I  shall  at 
least  be  able  to  tell  you  where  he  is.  Fear  nothing ;  he  shall  not 
escape !  I  am  his  guard  !  When  you  i*eceive  the  reply  of  the  king, 
have  the  goodness  to  inform  me.  This  is  the  only  reward  I  de- 
mand. "  * 

"I  will  inform  you,  madame, "  said  the  marquis,  opening  the 
door ;  "  and,  as  to  the  C^ount  Ranuzi,  I  i*ead  in  your  features  that 
you  hate  him  with  a  bitter  hatred,  and  will  not  allow  him  to  escape. " 

*  D' Argens  wrote  to  the  king :  "  fei  votre  majestS  ne  m'avait  point  6crit  en  proprea 
termes  Quoique  cette  feniine  puisse  vous  dire,  gardez-vous  bien  d'y  ajouter  foi. 
J'aurai  pri6  le  commandaut  do  faire  arreter  le  nomm6  Ranuzi  jnsqu'd.  ce  qu'elle  eut 
mandS  ce  qu''elle  veut  qu'oa  en  fa.sse;  cet  bomnie  me  paraissant  un  espion  de  plua 
a6r63.  Mais  je  me  suis  content6  de  dire  a  Madame  Taliazuchi  que  si  cetbommesor- 
tait  de  Berlin,  avant  la  r6ponse  de  votre  majestS  elle  en  rfipondrait,  et  elle  m'a 
•88ur6  qu'elle  le  retiendi-att  ''"' — OSuvres,  vol.  xiz.,  p.  93. 


408       PREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 
CHAPTER    VIII. 

REVENGE. 

Five  days  had  passed  since  Marietta's  interview  with  the  mar- 
quis. They  had  wrought  no  change  in  her  heart ;  no.  r  a  single 
instant  had  her  thirst  for  revenge  been  allayed.  Her  hatred  of 
Ranuzi  seemed  to  have  become  more  intense,  more  passionate,  since 
she  understood  his  plans — since  she  had  learned  that  he  had  never 
loved  her,  and  that  she  was  merely  the  instrument  of  his  intrigues. 
Since  that  time  she  had  watched  his  every  thought  and  deed. 

One  day  while  apparently  embracing  him,  and  whispering  words 
of  endearment  in  his  ear,  she  had  secretly  drawn  a  folded  paper 
from  his  pocket,  which  had  just  been  brought  to  him  by  a  sti-ange 
servant  who,  having  vainly  sought  him  at  his  own  house,  had  fol- 
lowed him  to  that  of  Marietta.  Having  thus  obtained  the  paper, 
she  made  an  excuse  for  leaving  the  room  in  order  to  inspect  it.  She 
carefully  closed  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  Ranuzi  sat,  and  then 
examined  the  paper.  After  reading  it,  she  drew  her  note-book  from 
her  pocket,  and  hastily  tearing  out  a  leaf,  she  wrote  upon  it  with  a 
pencil :  "Lose  no  time,  if  you  do  not  wish  him  to  escape.  He  has 
received  to-day,  through  the  agency  of  Madame  du  Trouffle,  the 
necessary  passport  and  permission  to  go  to  Magdeburg.  I  have  no 
longer  the  power  to  detain  him.  What  is  done  must  be  done 
quickly. " 

She  folded  the  paper  and  passed  cautiously  through  the  hall  and 
into  the  kitchen  where  her  maid  was.  "Listen,  Sophie, "  she  said  ; 
"  take  this  note  and  go  as  quickly  as  you  can  to  the  castle  and  a.sk 
for  the  Marquis  d'Argens.  You  must  give  the  note  into  his  own 
hands,  and  if  you  bring  me  an  answer  within  the  hour,  I  will  re- 
ward you  as  if  I  were  a  queen.     Do  not  speak,  only  go. " 

The  maid  hurried  down  the  steps,  and  Marietta  returned,  smil- 
ingly, to  Ranuzi,  who  received  her  with  reproaches  for  her  long 
absence . 

"  I  have  arranged  a  little  supper  for  us,  and  have  sent  my  maid 
to  obtain  some  necessary  articles.  You  will  not  leave  me  to-day,  as 
you  always  do,  to  go  to  your  conference  with  the  Catholic  priest. " 

"I  would  not.  Marietta,  but  I  must,"  said  Ranuzi.  "Believe  me, 
my  dear  child,  if  I  followed  the  dictates  of  my  heart,  I  would  never 
leave  this  room,  which  in  my  thoughts  I  always  call  my  paradise, 
and  in  which  I  enjoy  my  only  bright  and  happy  moments.  But 
what  would  you  have,  my  angel?  It  is  not  ordained  that  men 
should  have  undisturbed  possession  of  the  joys  of  paradise.     Mother 


REVENGE.  409 

Eve  sinned,  and  we  must  expiate  her  misdeeds.  I  must  leave  you 
again  to-day  to  join  that  conference  which  you  so  heartily  detest." 

"  But  not  yet, "  she  said,  tenderly,  putting  her  arms  about  his 
neck.     "  You  will  not  leave  me  yet?" 

Thus  besought,  he  promised  to  remain.  Never  was  he  more 
amiable,  more  brilliant,  more  attentive,  or  more  tender.  Never 
was  Marietta  gayer,  more  excited,  or  more  enchanting.  Both  had 
their  reasons  for  this — both  had  their  intentions.  Love  smiled  uix>n 
their  lips,  but  it  was  not  in  their  hearts — each  wished  to  deceive  the 
other.  Ranuzi  wished  to  quiet  every  suspicion  by  his  tenderness 
— she  must  not  dream  that  this  was  their  last  meeting,  and  that  he 
intended  leaving  Berlin  this  night,  perhaps  forever.  Marietta 
wished  to  chain  him  to  her  side  and  prevent  his  departure. 

Time  flew  by  amid  gay  laughter  and  tender  jests,  and  at  length 
Marietta  heard  the  house-door  open  and  hurried  steps  mounting  the 
stairway.  It  was  the  maid  who  had  returned.  Marietta's  heart 
beat  so  violently  that  she  could  scarcely  conceal  her  emotion. 

"The  maid  has  returned  with  her  purchases, "  she  said,  hastily; 
"  I  will  go  out  and  tell  her  that  you  cannot  remain  with  me  to-day. " 
She  left  the  room  and  met  Sophie  in  the  hall,  who  was  quite  out  of 
breath  with  her  hurried  walk,  and  who  handed  her  a  note.  Mari- 
etta broke  the  seal  with  trembling  hands.  It  contained  only  these 
words  :  "  Keep  him  but  a  few  moments  longer,  and  one  will  arrive 
who  will  release  you  from  your  watch,  and  relieve  you  forever  from 
your  enemy  by  bearing  him  to  prison.  The  answer  of  the  one  to 
whom  I  sent  your  paper  has  come  ;  he  is  condemned. " 

"  Very  well,  Sophie, "  said  Marietta,  concealing  the  paper  in  her 
bosom.  "When  the  count  leaves,  you  shall  receive  your  reward. 
Now  listen ;  the  soldiers  are  coming.  As  soon  as  you  hear  them  on 
the  steps,  you  must  tap  at  my  door,  that  I  may  know  they  have 
arrived." 

She  hastened  back  to  Ranuzi,  but  she  no  longer  smiled — she  no 
longer  approached  him  with  open  arms — but  she  advanced  toward 
him  with  flashing  eyes,  with  her  arms  folded  haughtily  across  her 
breast,  and  her  countenance  pale  with  passion. 

"Ranuzi,  the  hour  of  revenge  has  come  !  You  have  most  shame- 
fully betrayed  and  deceived  me — you  have  mocked  my  love — you 
have  trodden  my  heart  under  foot.  Lies  were  upon  your  lips — lies 
were  in  your  heart.  And  whilst  you  swore  to  me  that  you  loved  no 
other,  you  had  already  betrayed  me  to  a  woman.  I  am  acquainted 
with  Madame  du  Trouffle,  and  I  know  that  you  visit  her  every  even- 
ing. This  was  the  conference  with  the  Catholic  fathers,  for  whose 
sh'o  you  left  me.  Oh,  I  know  all — all !  I  will  not  reproach  you  ; 
1  will  not  tell  you  of  the  martyrdom  I  suffered — of  the  wretched  days 
»7 


410       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

and  nights  tlirough  which  I  wept  and  sighed,  until  at  length  I  over- 
came the  love  I  had  borne  you.  That  suffering  is  passed.  But  you 
have  not  forgotten  that  I  once  said  to  you :  '  Should  you  forsake  me, 
or  turn  faithlessly  from  me,  1  will  be  revenged. '" 

"  I  have  not  forgotten, "  said  Ranuzi,  "  and  I  know  that  you  will 
fulfil  your  promise  ;  but  before  you  do  so — before  you  ppint  me  out 
to  the  government  as  a  dangerous  spy — you  will  listen  to  my  de- 
fence, and  only  then  if  you  are  not  satisfied,  will  you  condemn  me, 
and  revenge  yourself. " 

"I  have  all-sufficient  proof,"  she  said.  "Day  by  day,  hour  by 
hour,  have  these  proofs  been  forced  upon  me,  as  the  contents  of  the 
poisoned  cup  are  forced  upon  the  condemned  man.  My  love  and 
happiness  are  dead,  but  you  also  shall  die — you  also  shall  suffer  as  I 
have  done.  My  love  was  insufficient  to  keep  for  me  a  place  in  your 
memory  ;  perhaps  my  revenge  will  do  so.  When  you  are  wretclied 
and  miserable,  think  of  me  and  repent." 

"  Repent  of  what?"  he  asked,  proudly.  "  I  have  done  nothing  of 
which  I  am  ashamed — nothing  of  which  I  repent.  I  have  offered 
up  my  entire  life,  my  eveiy  thought  and  desire,  to  a  holy,  a  noble 
cause.  To  it  I  have  subjected  all  my  feelings,  wishes,  and  hopes, 
and  had  it  been  necessary,  I  would  without  tears  have  sacrificed  all 
that  was  dearest  to  me  on  earth.  It  became  necessary  for  the  gootl 
of  this  cause  that  I  should  appear  to  betray  your  love.  A  plan  had 
been  formed  in  which  this  woman  you  have  just  named  could  alone 
aid  me.  I  dared  not  ask  my  heart  what  it  suffered,  for  my  head 
told  me  that  this  woman  was  necessary  to  me,  and  it  became  my 
duty  to  obtain  her  assistance  by  any  means.  So  I  became  the  daily 
companion  of  Madame  du  Trouffle,  so — " 

A  light  tap  at  the  door  interrupted  the  count,  and  startled  him 
inexplicably. 

"  What  does  that  mean?"  he  asked,  turning  pale. 

Marietta  laughed  aloud.  "That  means,"  she  said,  slowly  and 
scornfully,  "  that  you  will  not  go  to  Magdeburg  to-morrow — that  you 
cannot  make  use  of  the  passport  which  your  beloved  Madame  du 
TrouflBe  obtained  for  you.  Ah,  you  wished  to  leave  me  secretly — 
you  did  not  wish  me  to  suspect  your  intended  departure.  You  were 
mistaken,  Ranuzi.  You  will  remain  in  Berlin,  but  you  will  never 
go  to  her  again.     I  will  prevent  that." 

At  this  moment  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  two 
policemen  entered  the  room  without  waiting  for  an  invitation,  and 
through  the  open  door  armed  soldiers  might  be  seen  in  the  hall 
guarding  the  entrance. 

When  Ranuzi  first  beheld  these  servants  of  justice,  he  shuddered 
and  became  deathly  pale,  but  as  they  approached  him,  he  recovered 


REVENGE.  411 

his  wonted  composure,  and  advanced  proudly  and  coldly  to  meet 
them. 

"  Are  you  Count  Ranuzi  ?"  asked  one  of  the  policemen. 

"I  am,"  he  said,  calmly. 

" I  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  king  ;  you  are  our  prisoner." 

"  With  what  offence  am  I  charged  ?"  asked  he,  as  he  slowly  placed 
his  hand  in  his  bosom. 

"The  court-martial  will  inform  you." 

"Ah,  I  am  to  be  tried  by  a-court-martial.  Spies  and  conspirators 
are  always  thus  ti'ied.  I  am  charged  then  with  spying  and  conspir- 
ing, "  cried  Ranuzi,  and  then  slowly  turning  to  Marietta,  he  asked : 
"And  this  is  your  work?" 

"Yes  ;  this  is  my  work,"  she  said,  triumphantly. 

"You  must  come  now,"  said  the  policeman,  roughly,  as  he 
stepped  nearer  to  Ranuzi,  at  the  same  time  giving  his  companion  a 
sign  to  do  the  same.  "Come  immediately  and  quietly.  Do  not 
compel  us  to  use  force. " 

"  Force, "  cried  Ranuzi,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  as  he  drew  his 
hand  from  his  bosom  and  pointed  a  pistol  toward  the  policemen, 
from  which  they  shrunk  back  terrified.  "  You  see  that  I  need  not 
fear  force,"  he  said.  "If  you  dare  to  approach  nearer  or  lay  your 
hand  on  me  I  will  fire  on  both  of  you,  for  happily  my  pistol  has 
more  than  one  ball,  and  it  never  fails.  You  see  that  we  are  playing 
a  dangerous  game,  upon  whose  issue  may  depend  your  lives  as  well 
as  mine.  I  can  shoot  you  if  I  desire  it,  or  I  can  direct  this  weapon 
against  my  own  brow  if  I  wish  to  avoid  investigation  or  imprison- 
ment. But  I  promise  you  to  do  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  if  you 
will  give  me  the  time  to  say  a  few  words  to  this  lady. " 

"Be  quick,  then,"  said  the  policeman,  "or  I  will  call  in  the 
soldiers,  and  they  can  shoot  you  as  easily  as  you  could  shoot 
us." 

Ranuzi  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  will  be  very  careful  not 
to  shoot  me.  The  dead  do  not  speak,  and  it  is  very  important  for 
my  judges  that  I  should  speak.  Go  to  that  door ;  I  give  my  word 
that  I  will  follow  you. " 

As  if  to  strengthen  his  words,  he  raised  the  hand  which  held  the 
pistol,  and  the  two  men  withdrew  with  threatening  glances,  to  the 
door. 

Ranuzi  then  turned  again  to  Marietta,  who  turned  her  great 
flashing  eyes  upon  him  with  an  expression  of  anger  and  astonish- 
ment, mixed  with  hatred  and  admiration. 

"Marietta,"  he  said,  gently.  She  trembled  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice.  He  perceived  this,  and  smiled.  "Marietta,"  he  repeated, 
"you  have  betrayed  me;   you  have  revenged  your  love.'    I  do  not 


412       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

reproach  you,  my  anaconda,  but  I  pray  you  to  tell  me  one  thing  ;  did 
you  send  the  last  letters  which  I  gave  you  to  the  postV" 

"No,"  she  replied,  compelling  her  eyes,  with  a  mighty  effort,  to 
meet  his 

"  Wretch  !    What  did  you  do  with  them." 

"  I  sent  them  to  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

Ranuzi  uttered  a  shriek,  and  fell  back  a  step.  "Then  I  am  in- 
deed lost, "  he  murmured,  "  as  well  as  that  unhappy  creature,  who 
pines  for  light  and  freedom.  Poor  Trenck  !  Poor  Amelia  1  AH  is 
lost ;  all  through  the  jealousy  of  this  wretched  woman.  I  tell  you, 
Marietta, "  he  continued  aloud,  as  he  placed  his  hand  heavily  on  her 
shoulder,  "  it  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  curse  you,  you  will  do 
that  yourself.  This  hour  will  act  as  deadly  poison  on  your  heart,  of 
which  you  will  die.  It  is  true,  you  have  revenged  yourself.  To- 
day you  rejoice  in  this,  for  you  believe  that  you  hate  nie,  but  to- 
morrow you  will  repent ;  to-mori'ow  grief  will  overtake  you,  and  it 
will  grow  with  every  day — you  will  feel  that  you  must  love  me  for 
ever  and  ever ;  you  must  love  me,  because  you  have  wrought  my 
ruin.  Yes,  you  are  right — you  have  discovered  the  means  to  keep 
yourself  in  my  remembrance.  In  my  dungeon  I  will  think  of  j'ou. 
I  will  do  so,  and  curse  you ;  but  you  also  will  think  of  me ;  and 
when  you  do,  you  will  wring  your  hands  and  curse  yourself,  for  re- 
venge will  not  kill  the  love  in  your  heart.  Be  that  your  punish- 
ment.    Farewell !" 

He  passed  before  her,  and  quietly  approached  the  policemen. 
•'  Come,  gentlemen,  I  am  quite  ready  to  follow  you ;  and  that  you 
may  be  entirely  at  ease  I  will  leave  my  pistol  here.  It  ismy  legacy 
to  that  lady — my  last  souvenir.  Perhaps  she  may  use  it  in  the 
future. " 

He  placed  the  pistol  upon  her  writing-table  and  hastily  ap- 
proached the  door.     "  Come,  gentlemen  ;  I  am  your  prisoner !" 

He  signed  to  them  to  follow  him,  and  walked  proudly  through 
the  hall. 

Marietta  stood  there  trembling  and  deadly  pale — her  eyes  dilated, 
her  lips  opened,  as  if  to  utter  a  shriek.  Thus  she  watched  him, 
breathless,  and  as  if  enchained  with  horror. 

Now  she  saw  him  open  the  door  of  the  hall,  and  throwing  back 
at  her  one  cold,  flashing  glance,  he  went  out,  followed  by  the  police 
and  the  soldiers. 

"  He  is  gone !  he  is  gone !"  she  shrieked,  as  if  in  a  frenzy.  "They 
are  leading  him  to  imprisonment — perhaps  to  death.  Oh,  to  death  ! 
It  is  I  who  have  murdered  him.  He  is  right.  I  am  indeed  cursed. 
I  have  murdered  him,  and  I  love  him."  And  with  a  wild  shriek 
she  sank  fainting  to  the  ground. 


TRENCK.  413 


CHAPTER    IX. 

TRENCK. 

Trenck  still  lived ;  neither  chains  nor  yeai-s  of  loneliness  had 
broken  his  strength  or  bowed  his  spirit.  His  tall,  gigantic  form  had 
shrunk  to  a  skeleton  ;  his  hair  had  whitened  and  hung  around  his 
hollow  face  like  an  ashen  veil.  Heavy  chains  clasped  his  feet  and 
his  throat ;  a  broad  iron  band  encircled  his  waist,  which  was  at- 
tached to  the  wall  by  a  short  chain — a  thick  bar  held  his  hands 
apart ;  but  still  he  lived.  For  years  he  had  paced,  with  short,  rest- 
less steps,  this  little  space  that  covered  his  grave ;  but  he  smiled 
derisively  at  the  coarse  stone  which  bore  his  name. 

Trenck  still  lived.  He  lived  because  he  had  a  fixed  desire,  a 
grand  aim  in  view — he  thirsted  for  freedom,  and  believed  it  attain- 
able. Trenck  could  not  die,  for  without  was  liberty,  the  sun,  life, 
and  honor.  He  would  not  die  ;  for  to  be  willing  to  die,  he  must 
first  have  lived.  His  life  had  been  so  short — a  few  fleeting  years  of 
youth,  of  careless  enjoyment — a  joyous  dream  of  love  and  ambition  ! 
This  had  been  his  fate.  Then  came  long,  weary  years  of  imprison- 
ment— a  something  which  he  knew  not,  but  it  was  not  life — had 
crept  to  him  in  his  prison,  and  with  a  cruel  hand  marked  years 
upon  his  brow — years  through  which  he  had  not  lived,  but  suffered. 
And  still  he  remained  young  in  spite  of  gray  hairs  and  wrinkles. 
He  glowed  with  hope  and  defiance  ;  his  sluggish  blood  was  warmed 
from  time  to  time  with  new  hopes,  new  expectations.  His  imagi- 
nation painted  wonderful  pictures  of  future  happiness.  This  hope 
always  remained  smiling  and  vigorous  ;  notwithstanding  his  many 
disappointments — his  many  useless  attempts  to  escape,  Trenck  still 
hoped  for  freedom.  As  often  as  the  subterranean  passages  which 
he  dug  were  discovered,  he  recommenced  his  work,  and  dug  new 
ones ;  when  the  sentinels  whom  he  had  won  by  gold  and  flattery 
were  detected  and  punished,  he  found  means  to  obtain  other  friends. 

Truly,  friends  did  not  fail ;  the  buried  but  still  living  prisoner 
had  friends  who  never  forgot  him  ;  bold,  loving  friends,  risking 
their  lives  for  him.  The  mighty  power  of  his  great  misfortunes 
won  him  friends.  The  soldiers  who  guarded  him  were  seized  with 
shuddering  horror  and  pity  at  the  sight  of  this  sunken  form,  remind- 
ing them  of  the  picture  of  the  skeleton  and  the  hour-glass  which 
hung  in  the  village  church.  Trenck  knew  how  to  profit  by  this. 
The  officers,  who  came  every  day  to  inspect  his  prison,  were  charmed 
and  amazed  by  the  freshness  of  his  spirit,  his  bright  conversation, 
and  gay  remarks.     These  interviews  were  the  only  interruption  to 


414       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  dulness  of  their  garrison  life.  They  came  to  him  to  be  cheered. 
Not  being  willing  to  sit  with  him  in  the  dark,  they  brought  their 
lights  with  them  ;  they  opened  the  door  of  liis  cell  that  they  might 
not  be  obliged  to  remain  with  him  in  the  damp,  putrid  air.  They 
wondered  at  liis  firmness  and  courage ;  they  sympathized  with  his 
youth  and  loneliness,  and  this  sympathy  made  for  him  earnest,  use- 
ful friends,  who  revelled  in  the  thought  that  Trenck's  renewed 
attempts  at  escape  would  at  last  be  crowned  with  happy  results,  that 
he  would  obtain  his  freedom. 

He  was  on  the  eve  of  a  great  day.  To-morrow  he  would  live 
again,  to-morrow  he  would  be  free ;  this  time  it  was  no  chimera, 
no  dream — he  must  succeed. 

"  Yes,  my  plan  cannot  fail, "  murmured  Trenck,  as  he  sat  upon 
his  stone  seat  and  gazed  at  the  iron  door,  which  had  just  closed  be- 
hind the  Commandant  Bruckhausen.  "  My  cruel  jailer  has  discovered 
nothing,  carefully  as  he  searched  my  cell ;  this  time  I  have  dug  no 
mines,  broken  no  walls ;  tliis  time  I  shall  pass  thi-ough  that  door, 
my  comrades  will  greet  me  joyfully,  and  the  poor  prisoner  shall  be 
the  mighty  commander  of  the  fortress.  Only  one  night  more,  one 
single  night  of  patience,  and  life,  and  love,  and  the  world  shall  again 
belong  to  me.  Oh,  I  feel  as  if  I  would  go  mad  with  joy.  I  have  had 
strength  to  endure  misfortunes,  but  perhaps  the  rapture  of  freedom 
may  be  fatal.  My  God  !  my  God  !  if  I  should  lose  my  senses  !  if  the 
light  of  the  sun  should  scorch  my  brain  !  if  the  hum  of  the  busy 
world  should  crush  my  spirit !" 

He  lifted  his  hands  in  terror  to  his  brow  ;  he  felt  as  if  wrapped 
in  flames,  as  if  fire  were  rising  from  his  brain  ;  the  chains  rattled 
around  him  with  unearthly  sounds.  "The  slightest  error,  the  least 
forgetfulness  would  endanger  my  plan.  I  will  be  quiet — I  will  re- 
peat once  more  all  that  we  have  agreed  upon.  But  first  away  with 
these  slavish  chains,  to-morrow  I  shall  be  a  free  man  ;  I  will  com- 
mence my  role  to-day. " 

He  removed  the  handcuffs,  and  with  his  free  right  hand  loosened 
the  girdle  from  his  waist,  at  the  point  where  the  blacksmith,  who 
fastened  it  upon  him,  told  him  it  might  be  opened  by  a  pressure 
light  as  a  feather.  Now  he  was  free  ;  he  stretched  with  delight  his 
thin,  meagre  form,  and  let  his  arms  swing  in  the  air  as  if  to  prove 
their  muscle. 

This  was  a  sweet,  a  wonderful  prelude  to  freedom  ;  many  weeks 
and  months  he  had  worked  upon  these  chains  to  prepare  for  the 
moment  of  freedom.  Now  these  chains  had  fallen.  He  was  already 
a  free  man  ;  he  cared  not  for  these  dark,  damp  walls.  He  did  not 
see  them  ;  he  was  already  without,  where  the  sun  was  shining,  the 
birds  were  singing ;  where  the  blue  arch  of  heaven  looked  down 


TRENCK.  415 

upon  the  blooming  earth.  Wha  die'  he  care  for  the  death-like  still- 
ness which  surroundet  bim'  he  heard  the  noise  in  the  streets;  he 
saw  men  rmxaing  bere  and  there  in  busy  haste  ;  he  listened  to  their 
bright  conversation,  their  merry  laughter ;  he  mixed  among  them 
with  lively  greeting,  and  shared  their  joys  and  cares. 

Suddenly  he  again  pressed  his  brow  fearfully,  and  cried  ;  "  I  shall 
go  mad  !  A  thousand  dancing  pictures  and  happy  faces  are  swarm- 
ing around  me ;  I  shall  go  mad  !  But  no,  I  will  control  myself ;  I 
will  be  calm."  He  raised  his  head  with  his  accustomed  bold  defi- 
ance. "  I  will  look  freedom  in  the  face  ;  my  eyelids  shall  not  quiver 
and  my  heart  shall  beat  calmly.  I  will  be  quiet  and  thoughtful.  I 
will  think  it  all  over  once  more.  Listen  to  me,  oh  friend  I  you, 
who  have  heard  all  my  sighs  and  my  despair ;  you,  who  know  my 
misery  ;  listen  to  me,  oh  gloomy  cell.  You  have  always  been  faith- 
ful ;  you  have  never  wished  to  forsake  or  leave  me ;  and  when  I 
struggled  to  escape,  you  called  me  always  back.  But  this  is  our  last 
day  together ;  you  shall  hear  my  confession,  I  will  tell  you  all  my 
plans,  by  what  means  I  shall  escape  from  you,  my  true  friend,  my 
dark,  dreary  cell.  Know  first  that  this  garrison  is  composed  of 
nine  hvmdred  men,  who  are  much  dissatisfied.  It  will  not  be  diffi- 
cult to  win  them,  particularly  if  they  are  well  bribed.  Besides  this, 
there  are  two  majors  and  two  lieutenants  conspiring  with  me  ;  they 
will  tell  their  soldiers  what  to  do.  The  guard  at  the  star-port,  is 
composed  of  but  fifteen  men,  and  if  they  do  not  obey  me  willingly, 
we  will  know  how  to  compel  obedience.  At  the  end  of  the  star-port 
lies  the  city  gate.  At  this  only  twelve  men  and  one  officer  are  sta- 
tioned ;  these  we  shall  easily  overpower.  On  the  other  side,  close 
to  the  gate,  the  Austrian  Captain  von  Kimsky  is  awaiting  me  with 
the  remainder  of  the  prisoners  of  war.  All  the  officers,  who  have 
pledged  themselves  to  assist  my  undertaking,  are  concealed  in  a  safe 
house  rented  for  this  purpose.  At  my  first  call  they  will  rush  for- 
ward and  fall  upon  the  guard  ;  we  will  overpower  them  and  enter 
the  city.  There  other  friends  await  us ;  one  of  them,  under  some 
pretext,  holds  in  his  quarters  arms  for  his  company,  and  at  my  call 
he  will  join  me  with  his  armed  band.  Oh  my  God  !  my  God  !  I  see 
every  thing  so  plainly  and  clearly  before  me.  I  see  myself  nishing 
joyfully  through  the  streets,  dashing  into  the  casemates,  which  con- 
tain nine  thousand  prisoners.  I  call  to  them  :  '  Up,  comrades,  up ; 
I  am  Frederick  von  Trenck,  your  captain  and  your  leader;  arm 
yourselves  and  follow  me. '  I  hear  them  greet  me  joyfuUy  and  cry, 
'  Long  live  Trenck  !'  They  take  their  arms  and  we  rush  to  the  other 
casemates,  where  seven  thousand  Austrian  and  Russian  prisoners 
are  confined.  "We  free  them,  and  I  head  a  little  army  of  sixteen 
tbpvis^ijd  naen.     Magdeburg  is  iqiue ;  the  fortress,  the  magazine  9f 


416        FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

the  army,  the  treasury,  the  arsenal,  all  is  in  our  power.  I  shall 
conquer  all  for  Maria  Theresa.  Oh,  King  Frederick !  King  Fred- 
erick !  I  shall  avenge  myself  on  you  for  these  long  years  of  misery, 
for  the  martyrdom  of  this  fearful  imprisonment.  Trenck  will  not 
be  obliged  to  leave  Magdeburg  ;  he  will  drive  away  the  Prussians, 
and  make  himself  master. " 

He  laughed  so  loudly  that  the  old  walls  echoed  the  sound,  and  a 
wailing  sigh  seemed  to  glide  along  the  building.  Trenck  started 
and  looked  timidly  around  him. 

"  I  am  still  alone, "  he  murmured,  "  no  one  has  heard  my  words  ; 
no,  no  one  but  you, "  he  continued  cheerfully,  "  my  old  silent  friend, 
my  faithful  prison.  To-morrow  morning  the  oflScer  on  guard  will 
enter  and  order  the  sentinels  to  remove  the  bed ;  as  soon  as  they 
enter  I  shall  rush  out  and  lock  the  door.  The  sentinels  being  locked 
up,  I  put  on  the  clothes  which  are  lying  in  readiness  for  me  in  the 
passage,  and  then  forward  to  my  soldiers.  I  shall  distribute  gold 
freely  among  them — a  friend  will  meet  me  with  the  money  at  the 
house  of  Captain  von  Kleist,  and  if  he  has  not  sufficient,  Amelia 
has  richly  supplied  me.  Arise,  arise  from  your  grave,  my  secret 
treasures. " 

He  crouched  close  to  the  wall  and  removed  the  mortar  and  chalk 
carefully  ;  he  then  drew  out  a  stone  and  took  from  under  it  a  purse 
full  of  gold. 

His  eye,  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  saw  the  gold  through  the 
silk  net ;  he  nodded  to  it  and  laughed  with  delight  as  he  poured  it 
out  and  played  madly  with  it.  His  countenance  suddenly  assumed 
an  earnest  expression. 

"Poor  Amelia,"  he  murmured  softly,  "you  have  sacrificed  your 
life,  your  beauty,  and  your  youth  for  me.  With  never-failing  zeal 
you  have  moved  around  me  like  my  guardian  angel,  and  how  am  I 
repaying  you?  By  taking  from  your  brother.  King  Frederick,  his 
finest  fortress,  his  money,  his  provisions ;  by  compelling  you  and 
yours  to  fly  from  a  city  which  no  longer  belongs  to  you,  but  to  the 
Empress  of  Austria,  your  enemy.  With  your  money  I  have  taken 
this  city  ;  Amelia,  you  are  ignorant  of  this  now,  and  when  you  learn  . 
it,  perhaps  you  will  curse  me  and  execrate  the  love  which  has 
poisoned  your  whole  life.  Oh,  Amelia !  Amelia,  forgive  me  for  be- 
traying you  also.  My  unfortunate  duty  is  forcing  me  onward,  and 
I  must  obey.  Yes,"  he  said,  springing  from  his  seat,  "I  must  yield 
to  my  fate,  I  must  be  free  again — I  must  be  a  man  once  more ;  I  can 
sit  no  longer  like  a  wild  animal  in  his  cage,  and  tell  my  grief  and 
my  despair  to  the  cold  walls.  I  must  reconquer  life — I  must  again 
see  the  sun,  the  world,  and  mankind — I  must  live,  suffer,  and  act." 

He  walked  violeiitly  to  and  fro,  his  whole  being  w^B  in  fev^fi^Jj 


"TRENCK,  ARE  YOU  THERE  f"  417 

expectation  and  excitement,  and  he  felt  alarmed.  Suddenly  he 
remained  standing  ;  pressing  his  two  hands  against  his  beating  tem- 
ples, he  murmured  : 

"I  shall  indeed  go  mad.  Joy  at  my  approaching  deliverance 
confuses  my  poor  head  ;  I  will  try  to  sleep,  to  be  calm — collect  my 
strength  for  to-morrow." 

He  lay  down  upon  his  miserable  couch,  and  forced  himself  to  be 
quiet  and  silent — not  to  speak  aloud  to  himself  in  his  lonely  cell,  as 
he  was  accustomed  to  do.  Gradually  the  mad  tension  of  his  nerves 
relaxed,  gradually  his  eyes  closed,  and  a  soft,  beneficial  slumber 
came  over  him. 

All  was  still  in  the  dark  cell ;  nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the 
loud  breathing  of  the  sleeper  ;  but  even  in  sleep,  visions  of  life  and 
liberty  rejoiced  his  heart — his  face  beamed  with  heavenly  joy  ;  he 
murmured  softly,  "  I  am  free  ! — free  at  last !" 

The  hours  passed  away,  but  Trenck  still  slumbered — profound 
stillness  surrounded  him.  The  outer  world  had  long  since  been 
awake — the  sun  was  up,  and  had  sent  a  clear  beam  of  its  glory 
through  the  small,  thickly-barred  window,  even  into  the  comfort- 
less, desolate  cell,  and  changed  the  gloom  of  darkness  into  a  faint 
twilight. 


CHAPTER    X. 
"trenck,  are  you  there?" 

Trenck  slept.  Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  unfortunate  prisoner,  for 
while  asleep  you  are  free  and  joyous  ;  when  you  awake,  your  happy 
dreams  will  vanish ;  agony  and  despair  will  be  your  only  com- 
panions. 

Listen !  there  are  steps  in  the  passage ;  Trenck  does  not  hear 
them — he  still  sleeps.  But  now  a  key  is  turned,  the  door  is  opened, 
and  Trenck  springs  from  his  pallet. 

"Are  you  there,  my  friends?    Is  all  ready?" 

But  he  totters  back  with  a  fearful  shriek,  his  eyes  fixed  despair- 
ingly vipon  the  door.  There  stood  Von  Bruckhausen,  the  prison 
commandant,  beside  him  several  officers,  behind  them  a  crowd  of 
soldiers. 

This  vision  explained  all  to  Trenck.  It  told  him  that  his  plan 
had  miscarried — that  again  all  had  been  in  vain.  It  told  him  that 
he  must  remain  what  he  was,  a  poor,  wretched  prisoner — more 
wretched  than  before,  for  they  would  now  find  out  that  when  alone 
Jj?  could  release  hiifiBelf  fj-9»i  bis  c|iain8.    Thej'  would  fipc|  his  gold, 


418        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

which  he  had  taken  from  its  hiding-place,  and  was  now  lying  loosely 
upon  the  floor. 

"I  am  lost!"  said  he,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  and 
throwing  himself  upon  his  bed. 

A  malignant  smile  brightened  up  Von  Bruckhausen's  disagree- 
able countenance,  as  his  eye  took  in  the  broken  chains,  the  glitter- 
ing gold,  and  the  despairing  prisoner.  He  then  ordered  the  soldiers 
to  raise  the  chains  and  fasten  them  on  him. 

Trenck  made  no  resistance.  He  suffered  them  quietly  to  adjust 
his  iron  belt,  to  fasten  the  chain  around  his  neck.  He  seemed  in- 
sensible to  all  that  was  passing.  Tliis  fearful  blow  had  annihilated 
him ;  and  the  giant  who,  but  a  short  time  before,  had  thought  to 
conquer  the  world,  was  now  a  weak,  trembling,  defenceless  child. 
When  he  was  ordered  to  rise  to  have  the  chains  annexed  to  his  iron 
girdle,  and  fastened  to  the  wall,  he  rose  at  once,  and  stretched  out 
his  hand  for  the  manacles.  Now  the  commandant  dared  approach 
Trenck ;  he  had  no  fear  of  the  chained  lion,  he  could  jeer  at  and 
mock  without  danger.  He  did  it  with  the  wrath  of  a  soul  hard  and 
pitiless;  with  the  deep,  unutterable  hate  of  an  implacable  enemy; 
for  Trenck  was  his  enemj',  his  much-feared  enemy  ;  he  drove  sleep 
from  his  eyes — he  followed  him  in  his  dreams.  Often  at  midnight 
Von  Bruckhausen  rose  in  terror  from  his  couch,  because  he  dreamed 
that  Trenck  had  escaped,  and  that  he  must  now  take  his  place  in 
that  dark,  fearful  tomb.  Surrounded  by  gay  companions,  he  would 
turn  pale  and  shudder  at  the  thougth  of  Trenck's  escaping — Trenck, 
whose  fearful  cell  was  then  destined  to  be  his.  Tliis  constant  fear 
and  anxiety  caused  the  commandant  to  see  in  Trenck  not  the  king's 
prisoner,  but  his  own  personal  enemy,  with  whom  he  must  do  battle 
to  his  utmost  strength,  wMth  all  the  wrath  and  fear  of  a  timid  soul. 
With  a  cold,  malicious  smile  he  informed  him  that  his  plot  had 
been  discovered,  that  his  mad  plan  was  known ;  he  had  wished  to 
take  the  fortress  of  Magdeburg  and  place  upon  it  the  Austrian  flag. 
With  a  jeering  smile  he  held  up  to  him  the  letter  Trenck  had  sent 
to  his  friend  in  Vienna,  in  which,  without  mentioning  names,  he 
had  made  a  slight  sketch  of  his  plan. 

"Will  you  deny  that  you  wrote  this  letter?"  cried  the  comman 
dant,  in  a  threatening  voice. 

Trenck  did  not  answer.  His  head  was  bowed  upon  his  breast ; 
he  was  gazing  down  in  silence. 

"You  will  be  forced  to  name  your  accomplices, "  cried  the  enraged 
commandant ;  "  there  is  no  palliation  for  a  traitor,  and  if  you  do 
not  name  them  at  once,  I  shall  subject  you  to  the  lash. " 

An  unearthly  yell  issued  from  Trenck's  pale  lips,  and  as  he  raised 
b|8  b?^.  bis  countenance  wjis  expressive  of  sucb  wild,  such  t^rribl? 


"TRENCK,  ARE  YOU  THERE?"  419 

rage,  that  Bruckhausen  drew  away  from  him  iu  affright.  Trenck 
had  awakened  from  his  lethargy  ;  he  had  found  again  his  strength 
and  energy,  he  was  Trenck  once  more — the  Trenck  feared  by  Von 
Bruckhausen,  though  lying  in  chains,  the  Treuck  whom  nothing 
could  bend,  nothing  discourage. 

"He  who  dares  to  whip  me  shall  die,"  said  he,  gazing  wildly  at 
the  commandant.  "With  my  nails,  with  my  teeth,  will  I  kill 
him." 

"  Name  your  accomplices !"  cried  Bruckhausen,  stamping  upon 
the  ground  in  his  rage. 

It  was  Trenck  who  now  laughed.  "Ah,  you  think  to  intimidate 
me  with  your  angry  voice,"  said  he.  "You  think  your  word  has 
power  to  make  me  disclose  that  which  I  wish  to  keep  secret.  You 
think  I  will  betray  my  friends,  do  you?  Learn  what  a  poor,  weak, 
incapable  human  being  you  are,  for  not  one  of  the  things  you  wish 
shall  occur.  No,  I  shall  not  be  so  contemptible  as  to  betray  my 
friends.  Were  I  to  do  so,  then  were  I  a  traitor  deserving  of  this 
wretched  cell,  of  these  fearful  chains,  for  I  would  then  be  a  stranger 
to  the  first,  the  holiest  vii-tue,  gratitude.  But  no,  I  will  not.  I  was 
innocent  when  these  chains  were  put  on  me — innocent  I  will 
remain." 

"  Innocent !"  cried  the  commandant ;  "  you  who  wished  to  deliver 
to  the  enemy  a  fortress  of  your  sovereign  !  You  call  yourself  inno- 
cent?" 

Trenck  raised  himself  from  his  bed,  and  threw  back  his  head 
proudly.  "  I  am  no  longer  a  subject  of  the  King  of  Prussia, "  said 
he  ;  "  he  is  no  longer  my  sovereign.  Many  years  ago  I  was  thrown 
into  prison  at  Glatz  without  court-martial  or  trial.  Wlien  I  escaped, 
all  my  property  was  confiscated.  If  I  had  not  sought  my  bread 
elsewhere,  I  would  have  starved  to  death,  or  gone  to  ruin.  Maria 
Theresa  made  me  a  captain  in  her  army — to  her  I  gave  my  allegi- 
ance. She  alone  is  my  sovereign.  I  owe  no  duty  to  the  King  of 
Prussia — he  condemned  me  unheard — by  one  act  he  deprived  me  of 
bread,  honor,  country,  and  freedom.  He  had  me  thrown  into  prison, 
and  fettered  like  some  fearful  criminal.  He  has  degraded  me  to  an 
animal  that  lies  grovelling  in  his  cage,  and  who  only  lives  to  eat, 
who  only  eats  to  live.  I  do  not  speak  to  you,  sir  commandant, " 
continued  he — "  I  speak,  soldiers,  to  j'ou,  who  were  once  my  com- 
rades in  arms.  I  would  not  have  you  call  Trenck  a  traitor.  Look 
at  me  ;  see  what  the  king  has  made  of  me  ;  and  then  tell  me,  was  I 
not  justified  in  fleeing  from  these  tortures?  Even  if  Magdeburg  had 
been  stormed,  and  thousands  of  lives  lost,  would  you  have  called  me 
a  traitor?  Am  I  a  traitor  because  I  strive  to  conquer  for  myself 
what  you,  what  every  man,  receives  from  Gkxi  as  his  holy  right— 


420       FUEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

my  freedom?"  While  he  spoke,  his  pale,  wan  countenance  beamed 
with  inspiration. 

The  soldiers  were  struck  and  touched  with  it — their  low  murmiu^ 
of  applause  taught  the  commandant  that  he  had  committed  a  mis- 
take in  having  so  many  witnesses  to  his  conversation  with  the  uni- 
versally pitied  and  admired  prisoner. 

"You  will  not  name  your  accomplices?"  said  he. 

"  No, "  said  Trenck,  "  I  will  not  betray  my  friends.  And  what 
good  would  it  do  you  to  know  their  names?  You  would  punish 
them,  and  would  thereby  sow  dragons'  teeth  from  which  new  frieiids 
would  rise  for  me.  For  undeserved  misfortune,  and  unmerited 
reproach,  make  for  us  friends  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  Look  there, 
sir  commandant — look  there  at  your  soldiers.  Tliey  came  here  in- 
different to  me — they  leave  as  my  friends ;  and  if  they  can  do  no 
more,  they  will  pray  for  me." 

"  Enough  !  enough  of  this, "  cried  the  commandant.  "  Be  silent ! 
And  you, "  speaking  to  the  soldiers,  "  get  out  of  here !  Send  the 
blacksmith  to  solder  these  chains  at  once.  Go  into  the  second  pas- 
sage— I  want  no  one  but  the  blacksmith. " 

Tlie  soldiers  withdrew,  and  the  smith  entered  with  his  hot  coals, 
his  glov.ing  iron,  and  his  panful  of  boiling  lead.  The  commandant 
leaned  against  the  prison-door  gazing  at  the  smith ;  Trenck  was 
looking  eagerly  at  the  ceiling  of  his  cell  watching  the  shadows 
thrown  there  by  the  glowing  coals. 

"  It  is  the  ignus  fatuus  of  my  freedom, "  said  he,  with  a  weary 
smile.  "It  is  the  fourth  time  they  have  danced  on  this  ceiling — it 
is  the  fourth  time  my  chains  have  been  forged.  But  I  tell  you, 
commandant,  I  will  break  them  again,  and  the  shadows  flickering 
on  these  walls  will  be  changed  to  a  glorious  sun  of  freedom — it  will 
illuminate  my  path  so  tliat  I  can  escape  from  this  dungeon,  in 
which  I  will  leave  nothing  but  my  curse  for  you  my  cruel  keeper." 

"You  have  not,  then,  despaired?"  said  the  commandant,  with  a 
cold  smile.     "You  will  still  attempt  to  escape?" 

Trenck  fixed  his  keen,  sparkling  eyes  upon  Von  Bruckhausen, 
and  sti'etching  out  his  left  arm  to  the  smith,  he  said :  "Listen,  sir 
commandant,  to  what  I  have  to  say  to  you,  and  may  my  words  creep 
like  deadly  poison  through  your  veins !  Hear  me ;  as  soon  as  you 
have  left  my  cell — as  soon  as  that  door  has  closed  behind  you — I  will 
commence  a  new  plan  of  escape.  You  have  thrown  me  in  a  cell 
under  the  earth.  Tlie  floor  in  my  other  cell  was  of  wood — I  cut  my 
way  through  it.  This  is  of  stone — I  shall  remove  it.  You  come 
daily  and  search  my  room  to  see  if  there  is  not  some  hole  or  some 
instrument  hidden  by  which  I  might  efl'ect  my  escape.  Nevertheless 
I  shall  escape.     God  created  the  mole,  and  of  it  I  will  learn  how 


"TRENCK,  ARE   YOU  THERE?"  421 

to  burrow  in  the  ground,  and  thus  I  will  escape.  You  will  see  that 
I  have  no  instruments,  no  weapons,  but  God  gave  me  what  He  gave 
the  mole — He  gave  my  fingers  nails,  and  my  mouth  teeth ;  and  if 
there  is  no  other  way,  I  will  make  my  escape  by  them. " 

"  It  is  certainly  very  kind  of  you  to  inform  me  of  all  this, "  cried 
the  commandant.  "Be  assured  I  slmll  not  forget  your  words.  I 
shall  accommodate  myself  to  them.  You  seek  to  escape — I  seek  to 
detain  you  here.  I  am  convinced  I  shall  find  some  means  of  assur- 
ing myself  every  quarter  of  an  hour  that  your  nails  and  teeth  have 
not  freed  you.  The  smith's  work  I  see  is  done,  and  we  dare  enter- 
tain the  hope  that  for  the  present  you  will  remain  with  us.  Or  jier- 
haps  you  mean  to  bite  your  chains  in  two  as  soon  as  I  leave?" 

"  God  gave  Samson  strength  to  crush  with  his  arms  the  temple 
columns,"  said  Trenck,  gazing  at  the  blacksmith,  who  was  now 
leaving  the  room.  "  See,  the  ignis  fatuus  has  disappeared  from  my 
cell,  the  sun  will  soon  shine. " 

"  Trenck,  be  reasonable, "  said  Von  Bruckhausen,  in  an  entreating 
tone.  "Do  not  increase  your  misery — do  not  force  me  to  be  more 
cruel  to  you.  Promise  to  make  no  more  attempts  to  escape,  and  you 
shall  not  be  punished  for  your  treacherous  plot !" 

Trenck  laughed  aloud.  "You  promise  not  to  punish -me.  How 
could  you  accomplish  it?  Has  not  your  cruelty  bound  me  in  irons, 
in  chains,  whose  invention  can  only  be  attributed  to  the  devil?  Do 
I  not  live  in  the  deepest,  most  forlorn  cell  in  the  fortress?  Is  not 
ray  nourishment  bread  and  water?  Do  you  not  condemn  me  to  pass 
my  days  in  idleness,  my  nights  in  fearful  darkness?  What  more 
could  you  do  to  me? — how  could  you  punish  any  new  attempt  to 
escape  ?  No,  no,  sir  commandant ;  as  soon  as  that  door  has  closed 
on  you,  the  mole  will  commence  to  burrow,  and  some  day,  in  spite 
of  all  your  care,  he  will  escape. " 

"Tliat  is  your  last  word!"  cried  Von  Bruckhausen,  infuriated. 
"You  will  not  promise  to  abandon  these  idle  attempts  at  escape? 
You  will  not  name  your  accomplices?" 

"  No !  and  again  no  !" 

"Well,  then,  farewell.  You  shall  remember  this  hour,  and  I 
promise  you,  you  shall  regret  it. " 

Throwing  a  fearful  look  of  malignant  wrath  at  Trenck,  who  was 
leaning  against  his  pallet,  laughing  at  his  rage,  the  commandant 
left  the  prison.  Tlie  iron  door  closed  slowly  ;  the  firm,  even  tread 
of  the  disappearing  soldiers  veas  audible,  then  all  was  quiet. 

A  death-like  stillness  reigned  in  the  prisoner's  cell ;  no  sound  of 
life  disturbed  the  fearful  quiet.  Ti-enck  shuddered ;  a  feeling  of 
inexpressible  woe,  of  inconsolable  despair  came  over  him.  He  could 
now  yield  to  it,  no  one  was  present  to  bear  hia  miserj^  and  wretch- 


422        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAIHLY. 

edness.  He  need  not  now  suppress  the  sighs  and  groans  that  had 
almost  choked  him  ;  he  could  give  the  tears,  welling  to  his  eyes  like 
burning  fire,  full  vent ;  he  could  cool  his  feverish  brow  upon  the 
stone  floor,  in  the  agony  of  his  soul.  As  a  man  trembles  at  the 
thought  of  death,  Trenck  trembled  at  the  thought  of  life.  He  knew 
not  how  long  he  had  sighed,  and  wept,  and  groaned.  For  him  there 
was  no  time,  no  hour,  no  night — it  was  all  merged  into  one  fearful 
day.  But  still  he  experienced  some  hours  of  pleasure  and  joy. 
These  were  the  hours  of  sleep,  the  hours  of  dreams.  Happier  than 
many  a  king,  than  many  powerful  rulers  and  rich  nobles  upon  their 
silken  couches,  was  this  prisoner  upon  his  hard  pallet.  He  could 
sleep — his  spirit,  busy  during  the  day  in  forming  plans  for  his 
escape,  needed  and  found  the  rest  of  sleep ;  his  body  needed  the 
refreshment  and  received  it. 

Yes,  he  could  sleep.  Men  were  hard  and  cruel  to  him,  but  God 
had  not  deserted  him,  for  at  night  He  sent  an  angel  to  his  cell  who 
consoled  and  refreshed  him.  It  was  the  angel  of  slumber — when 
night  came,  after  all  his  sorrow,  his  agony,  his  despair  endured 
during  the  day,  the  consoling  angel  came  and  took  his  seat  by  the 
wretched  prisoner.  This  night  he  kissed  his  eyes,  he  laid  his  soft 
wings  on  the  prisoner's  wounded  heart,  he  whispered  glorious 
dreams  of  the  future  into  his  ear.  A  beautiful  smile,  seldom  seen 
when  he  was  awake,  now  rested  upon  his  lips. 

Keep  quiet,  ye  guards,  without  there — keep  quiet,  the  prisoner 
sleeps  ;  the  sleep  of  man  is  sacred,  and  more  sacred  than  all  else  is 
the  sleep  of  the  uiifortimate.  Do  not  disturb  him — pass  the  door 
stealthily.     Be  still,  be  still !  the  prisoner  sleeps — reverence  his  rest. 

This  stillness  was  now  broken  by  a  loud  cry. 

"  Trenck,  Trenck  !"  cried  a  thundering  voice — "  Trenck,  are  you 
asleep?" 

He  woke  from  his  pleasant  dreams  and  rose  in  terror  from  his 
bed.  He  thought  he  had  heard  the  trumpets  of  the  judgment-day, 
and  listened  eagerly  for  the  renewing  of  the  sound. 

And  again  the  cry  resounded  through  his  cell.  "  Trenck,  are  you 
there?" 

With  a  wild  fear  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  burning  brow. 

"  Am  I  mad?"  murmured  he  ;  "I  hear  a  voice  in  my  brain  calling 
me  ;  a  voice — " 

The  bolts  were  pushed  back,  and  Commandant  Von  Bruckhausen, 
accompanied  by  a  soldier,  with  a  burning  torch,  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

"Why  did  you  not  answer,  Trenck?"  said  he. 

"Answer — answer  what?" 

"The  sentinel's  call.     As  you  swore  to  me  you  would  make  new 


THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR.  4^3 

attempts  to  escape,  I  was  compelled  to  make  arrangements  to  pre- 
vent your  succeeding.  The  guards  at  your  door  are  commanded  to 
call  you  every  quarter  of  an  hour  during  the  night.  If  you  do  not 
answer  at  once,  they  will  enter  your  cell  to  convince  themselves  of 
your  presence.  Accommodate  yourself  to  this,  Trenck.  We  shall 
now  see  if  you  are  able  to  free  yourself  with  your  nails  and  teeth  !" 

He  left  the  room,  the  door  w^as  closed.  It  was  night  once  more 
in  the  prisoner's  cell — but  he  did  not  sleep.  He  sat  upon  his  pallet 
and  asked  himself  if  what  had  passed  was  true,  or  if  it  was  not 
some  wild  and  fearful  dream. 

"  No,  no,  it  cannot  be  true  ;  they  could  not  rob  me  of  my  last  and 
only  pleasure — my  sleep  !  soft,  balmy  sleep  !" 

But  listen.  There  is  a  voice  again.  "Trenck,  Trenck,  are  you 
there?" 

He  answered  by  a  fearful  yell,  and  sprang  from  his  bed,  trem- 
bling with  tenor.     It  was  no  dream  ! 

"  It  is  true  ! — they  will  let  me  sleep  no  more.  Cowardly  thieves ! 
may  God  cui-se  as  I  curse  you.  May  He  have  no  pity  with  you, 
who  have  none  witli  me !  Ah,  you  cruel  men,  you  increase  my 
misery  a  thousandfold.  You  murder  my  sleep.  God's  curse  upon 
you  1" 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR, 

It  was  the  winter  of  1760.  Germany,  luihappy  Germany,  bleed- 
ing from  a  thousand  wounds,  was  for  a  few  months  freed  from  the 
scourge  of  war ;  she  could  breathe  again,  and  gather  new  strength 
for  new  contests.  Stern  winter  with  its  ice  and  snow  had  alone 
given  peace  to  the  people  for  a  short  time.  The  rulers  thought  of 
and  willed  nothing  but  war  ;  and  the  winter's  rest  was  only  a  time 
of  preparation  for  new  battles.  The  allies  had  never  yet  succeeded 
iu  vanquishing  the  little  King  of  Prussia.  Notwithstanding  the 
disappointments  and  advei-sities  crowded  upon  him — though  good 
fortune  and  success  seemed  forever  to  liave  abandoned  him — Fred- 
erick stood  firm  and  undaimted,  and  his  courage  and  his  confidence 
augmented  with  the  dangers  which  siirrounded  him. 

But  his  condition  appeared  so  sad,  so  desperate,  that  even  the 
heroic  Pi-ince  Henry  despaired.  The  king  had  in  some  degree  re- 
paired the  disasters  of  Kunersdorf  and  Mayen  by  his  great  victories 
at  Jjeignitz  and  Torgau ;  but  so  mournful,  so  menacing  was  his 
position  on  every  side,  that  even  the  victories  which  had  driven  his 


424       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

enemies  from  Saxony,  and  at  least  assured  him  his  winter  quarters, 
brought  him  no  other  advantages,  and  did  not  lessen  the  dangers 
which  threatened  him.  His  enemies  stood  round  about  him — they 
burned  with  rage  and  thirst  to  destroy  utterly  that  king  who  was 
alwaj's  ready  to  tear  from  them  their  newly-won  laurels.  Only  by 
his  complete  destruction  could  they  hope  to  quench  the  glowing  en- 
thusiasm which  the  people  of  all  Europe  expressed  by  shouts  and 
exultation. 

The  Russians  had  their  winter  qiiarters  for  the  first  time  in 
Pomerania.  The  Austrians  lay  in  Silesia  and  Bohemia.  The  newly- 
supplied  French  army,  and  the  army  of  the  States,  were  on  the 
Rhine.  While  the  enemies  of  Frederick  remained  thus  faithful  to 
each  other  in  their  war  against  him,  he  had  just  lost  his  only  ally. 

King  George  II.  of  England  was  dead,  and  the  weak  George  III. 
yielded  wholly  to  the  imperious  will  of  his  mother  and  to  that  of 
Ijord  Bute.  He  broke  off  his  league  with  Prussia,  and  refused  to 
pay  the  subsidy. 

Thus  Prussia  stood  alone — without  money,  without  soldiers, 
without  friends — surrounded  by  powerful  and  eager  enemies — alone 
and  seemingly  hopeless,  with  so  many  vindictive  adversaries. 

All  this  made  Prince  Henry  not  only  unhappy,  but  dispirited — 
palsied  his  courage,  and  made  him  wish  to  leave  the  army  and  take 
refuge  in  some  vast  solitude  where  he  could  mourn  over  the  mis- 
fortunes of  his  distracted  country.  Accordingly  he  wrote  to  the 
king  and  asked  for  his  discharge. 

The  king  replied : 

"  It  is  not  difficult,  my  brother,  in  bright  and  prosperous  times, 
to  find  men  willing  to  serve  the  state.  Those  only  are  good  citizens 
who  stand  undaunted  at  the  post  of  danger  in  times  of  great  crises 
and  disaster.  The  true  calling  of  a  man  consists  in  this :  that  he 
should  intrepidly  carry  out  the  most  difficult  and  dangerous  enter- 
prises. The  more  difficulty,  the  more  danger — the  more  bright 
honor  and  undying  fame.  I  cannot,  therefore,  believe  that  you  are 
in  earnest  in  asking  for  your  discharge.  It  is  unquestionable  that 
neither  you  nor  I  can  feel  certain  of  a  happy  issue  to  the  circum- 
stances which  now  surround  us.  But  when  we  have  done  all  which 
lies  in  our  power,  our  consciences  and  public  opinion  will  do  us 
justice.  We  contend  for  our  fatherland  and  for  honor.  We  must 
make  the  impossible  possible,  in  order  to  succeed.  The  number  of 
our  enemies  does  not  terrify  me.  The  greater  their  number,  tlie 
more  glorious  will  be  our  fame  when  we  have  conquered  them. "  * 

Prince  Henry,  ashamed  of  his  despondency,  gave  to  this  letter  of 
his  brother  the  answer  of  a  hero.  He  marched  against  the  Russians, 
♦Preuss,  "History  of  Frederick  the  Great,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  846. 


THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR.         4^5 

drove  them  from  Silesia,  and  raised  the  siege  of  Breslau,  around 
which  the  Austrians  under  Loudon  were  encamped.  Tauentzein, 
with  fearless  energy  and  with  but  three  thousand  Prussians,  had 
fortified  himself  in  Breslau  against  this  powerful  enemy.  So  in  the 
very  beginning  of  the  winter  the  capital  of  Silesia  had  been  retaken 
By  Torgau  the  king  had  fought  and  won  his  twelfth  battle  for  the 
possession  of  Silesia — yes,  fought  and  won  from  his  powerful  and 
irreconcilable  enemies.  And  all  this  had  been  in  vain,  and  almost 
without  results.  The  prospect  of  peace  seemed  far  distant,  and  the 
hope  of  happiness  for  Frederick  even  as  remote. 

But  now  winter  was  upon  them.  Tliis  steni  angel  of  peace  had 
sheathed  the  sword,  and  for  the  time  ended  the  war. 

While  the  pious  Maria  Theresa  and  her  court  ladies  made  it  the 
mode  to  prepare  lint  in  their  splendid  saloons  during  the  winter  for 
the  wounded  soldiers — while  the  Russian  General  Soltikow  took  up 
his  winter  quarters  at  Posen,  and  gave  sumptuous  feasts  and  ban- 
quets— Frederick  withdrew  to  Leipsic,  in  which  city  philosophy  and 
learning  were  at  that  time  most  flourishing.  The  Leipsigers  indeed 
boasted  that  they  had  given  an  asylum  to  poetry  and  art. 

The  warrior-hero  was  now  changed  for  a  few  happy  months  into 
the  philosopher,  the  poet,  and  the  scholar.  Frederick's  brow,  con- 
tracted by  anxiety  and  care,  was  now  smooth  ;  his  eye  took  again 
its  wonted  fire — a  smile  was  on  his  lip,  and  the  hand  which  had  so 
long  brandished  the  sword,  gladly  resumed  the  pen.  He  who  had 
so  long  uttered  only  words  of  command  and  calls  to  battle,  now 
bowed  over  his  flute  and  drew  from  it  the  tenderest  and  most  melt- 
ing melodies.  The  evening  concerts  were  resumed.  The  musical 
friends  and  comrades  of  the  king  had  been  summoned  from  Berlin  ; 
and  that  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  make  his  happiness  complete, 
he  had  called  his  best-beloved  friend,  the  Marquis  d'Argens,  to  his 
side. 

D'Argens  had  much  to  tell  of  the  siege  of  Berlin  by  the  Russians 
— of  the  firm  defence  of  the  burghers — of  their  patriotism  and  their 
courage.  Frederick's  eyes  glistened  with  emotion,  and  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  thankful  heart  he  promised  to  stand  by  his  faithful  Ber- 
liners  to  the  end.  But  when  D'Argens  told  of  the  desolation  which 
the  Russians  had  wrought  amongst  the  treasures  of  art  in  Chariot 
tenburg,  the  brow  of  the  king  grew  dark,  and  with  profound  indig- 
nation he  said : 

"  Ah,  the  Russians  are  barbarians,  who  labor  only  for  the  down- 
fall of  humanity.*    If  we  do  not  succeed  in  conquering  them,  and 
destroying  their  rude,   despotic  sovereignty,   they  will  again  and 
ever  disquiet  the  whole  of  Europe.     In  the  mean  time,  however, " 
•The  king's  own  words.— Archenholtz,  vol.  i.,  p.  388. 
28 


426       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  PAMILV. 

said  Frederick,  "the  vandalism  of  the  Russians  shall  not  destroy 
our  beautiful  winter  rest.  If  they  have  tora  my  j)ainting8  and 
crushed  my  statues,  we  must  collect  new  art- treasures.  Gotzkowsky 
has  told  me  that  in  Italy,  that  inexhaustible  mine  of  art,  there  are 
still  many  glorious  pictures  of  tlie  gi-eat  old  masters  ;  he  shall  pro- 
cure them  for  me,  and  I  will  make  haste  to  finish  this  war  in  order 
to  enjoy  my  new  paintings,  and  to  rest  in  my  beautiful  T.ins-Souci. 
Ah,  marquis,  let  us  speak  no  longer  of  it,  in  this  room  at  least,  let 
us  forget  the  war.  It  has  whitened  my  hair,  and  made  an  old  man 
of  me  before  my  time.  My  back  is  bent,  and  my  face  is  wrinkled 
as  the  flounce  on  a  woman's  dress.  All  this  has  the  war  brought 
upon  me.  But  my  heart  and  my  inclinations  are  unchanged,  and  I 
think  I  dare  now  allow  them  a  little  satisfaction  and  indulgence. 
Come,  marquis,  I  have  a  new  poem  from  Voltaire,  sent  to  me  a  few 
days  since.  We  will  see  if  he  can  find  grace  before  your  stern 
tribunal.  I  have  also  some  new  sins  to  confess.  That  is  to  say,  I 
have  some  poems  composed  in  the  hours  of  rest  during  my  campaigns. 
You  are  my  literaiy  father  confessor,  and  we  will  see  if  you  can 
give  me  absolution." 

But  the  king  did  not  dedicate  the  entire  winter  to  music,  and 
French  poems,  and  gay,  cheerful  conversation  with  his  friends.  A 
part  of  this  happy  time  was  consecrated  to  the  earnest  study  of  the 
ancients.  For  the  first  time  he  turned  his  attention  to  German 
literatux'e,  and  felt  an  interest  in  the  efforts  of  German  philosophers 
and  poets. 

Quintus  Icilius,  the  learned  companion  of  Frederick,  had  often 
assured  him  that  the  scholarehip,  the  wit,  the  poetiy  of  Germany, 
found  at  this  time  their  best  representatives  in  Leipsic,  that  he  at 
length  became  curious  to  see  these  great  men,  of  whom^Quintus 
Icilius  asserted  that  they  far  surpassed  the  French  in  scholarship, 
and  in  wit  and  intellect  might  take  their  places  unchallenged  side 
by  side  with  the  French. 

Tlie  king  listened  to  this  assurance  with  rather  a  contemptuous 
smile.  He  directed  Icilius,  however,  to  present  to  him  some  of  the 
Ijeipsic  scholars  and  authors. 

"  I  will  present  to  your  majesty  the  most  renowned  scholar  and 
philologist  of  Leipsic,  Professor  Gottsched,  and  the  celebrated 
autlior,  Gellert, "  said  Icilius,  with  great  animation.  "Which  of 
the  two  will  j'our  majesty  receive  first?" 

"Bring  me  first  the  scholar  and  philologist,"  said  the  king, 
laughing.  "  Perhaps  the  man  has  already  discovered  in  this  barbar- 
ous Dutch  tongue  a  few  soft  notes  and  turns,  and  if  so,  I  am  curious 
to  hear  them.  Go,  then,  and  bring  me  Professor  Gottsched.  I  have 
often  heard  of  him,  and  I  know  that  Voltaire  dedicated  an  ode  to 


THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR.  427 

him.  In  the  mean  time  I  will  read  a  little  in  my  Lucretius  and 
prepare  mj'  soul  for  the  interview  with  this  great  Dutchman." 

Icilius  hastened  off  to  summon  the  renowned  professor  to  the 
king. 

Gottsched,  to  whom,  at  that  time,  all  Germany  rendered  homage, 
and  who  possessed  all  the  pride  and  arrogance  of  a  German  scholar, 
thought  it  most  natural  that  the  king  should  wish  to  know  him,  and 
accepted  the  invitation  with  a  gracious  smile.  In  the  complete, 
heart-felt  conviction  of  his  own  glory,  in  the  rigid,  pedantic  Array 
of  a  magnificent,  long-tailed  wig,  the  German  professor  appeared 
before  the  king.  His  majesty  received  him  in  his  short,  simple, 
unostentatious  manner,  and  smiled  significantly  at  the  pompous 
manner  of  the  renowned  man.  Tliey  spoke  at  first  of  the  progress 
of  German  philosophy,  and  the  king  listened  with  grave  attention 
to  the  learned  deductions  of  the  professor,  but  he  thought  to  himself 
that  Gottsched  understood  but  little  how  to  make  his  knowledge 
palatable ;  he  was  probably  a  learned,  but  most  certainly  a  very 
uninteresting  man. 

The  conversation  was  carried  on  with  more  vivacity  when  they 
spoke  of  poetry  and  history,  and  the  king  entered  upon  this  theme 
with  warm  interest. 

"In  the  history  of  Germany,  I  believe  there  is  still  much  con- 
cealed," said  Frederick;  "I  am  convinced  that  many  important 
documents  are  yet  hidden  away  in  the  cloisters. " 

Gottsched  looked  up  at  him  proudly.  "  Pardon,  sire, "  said  he, 
iu  his  formal,  pedantic  way.  "I  believe  those  can  be  only  unim- 
portant documents.  To  my  view,  at  least,  there  is  no  moment  of 
German  history  concealed — all  is  clear,  and  I  can  give  information 
on  every  point !" 

The  king  bowed  his  head  with  a  mocking  smile.  "You  are  a 
great  scholar,  sir;  I  dare  not  boast  of  any  preeminence.  I  only 
know  the  histoiy  of  the  German  States  written  by  Pere  Barre. " 

"  He  has  written  a  German  history  as  well  as  a  foreigner  could 
write  it,"  said  Gottsched.  "For  this  purpose  he  made  use  of  a 
Latin  work,  written  by  Struve,  in  Jena.  He  translated  this  book — 
nothing  more.  Had  Barre  understood  German,  his  history  would 
have  been  better ;  he  would  have  had  surer  sources  of  infonnation  at 
his  command." 

"  But  Barre  was  of  Alsace,  and  imderstood  German, "  said  Fred- 
erick, eagerly.  "But  you,  who  are  a  scholar,  an  author,  and  a 
grammarian,  tell  me,  if  any  thing  can  be  made  of  the  German 
language?" 

"  Well,  I  think  we  have  already  made  many  beautiful  tilings  of 
it,"  said  Gottsched,  in  the  full  consciousness  of  his  own  fame. 


428       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  But  you  have  not  been  able  to  give  it  any  melody,  or  any  grace, " 
said  Frederick.  "  The  German  language  is  a  succession  of  barbarous 
sounds ;  there  is  no  music  in  it.  Every  tone  is  rough  and  harsh, 
and  its  many  discords  make  it  useless  for  poetry  or  eloquence.  For 
instance,  in  German  you  call  a  rival '  Nebenbuhler, '  what  a  fatal, 
disgusting  sound — '  Buhler ! ' "  * 

"Ah,  your  majesty, "  said  Gottsched,  impatiently,  "that  is  also 
a  sound  in  the  French  tongue.  You  should  know  this,  for  no  one 
understands  better,  more  energetically  than  yourself,  how  to  circum- 
vent the  '  boules  ! ' " 

Frederick  laughed ;  and  this  gay  rejoinder  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessor reconciled  him  somewhat  to  his  puffed  up  and  haughty  self- 
conceit.  "It  is  true,  "said  he,  "this  time  you  are  right;  but  you 
must  admit  that,  in  general,  the  French  language  is  softer  and  more 
melodious !" 

"I  cannot  admit  it,"  said  Gottsched,  fiercely.  "I  assert  that 
German  is"  more  musical.  How  harsh,  how  detestable  sounds,  for 
instance,  the  French  '  amour ; '  how  soft  and  tender — yes,  I  may  say, 
how  characteristic — sounds  the  word  '  liebe  !  '  " 

"Aha  !"  said  the  king,  "you  are  certainly  most  happily  married, 
or  you  would  not  be  so  enthusiastic  about  German  'liebe, '  which  I 
admit  is  a  very  different  thing  from  French  'amour. '  I  am,  how- 
ever, convinced  that  the  French  language  has  many  advantages 
over  the  German.  For  instance,  in  the  French  one  word  may  often 
suflSce  to  convey  many  different  meanings,  while  for  this  purpose 
several  German  words  must  be  combined. " 

"  Tliat  is  true.  Tliere  your  majesty  is  right, "  said  Grottsched, 
thoughtfully.  "Tlie  French  language  has  this  advantage.  But  this 
shall  be  no  longer  so — we  will  change  it !  Yes,  yes — we  will  reform 
it  altogether !" 

Frederick  looked  astonished  and  highly  diverted.  This  assump- 
tion of  the  learned  scholar,  "to  change  all  that,"  impressed  him 
through  its  immensity. f  "Bring  that  about  sir,"  said  tlie  king, 
gayly.  "Wave  your  field-marshal's  staff  and  give  to  the  German 
language  that  which  it  has  never  possessed,  grace,  significance,  and 
facility  ;  then  breathe  upon  it  the  capability  to  express  soft  passion 
and  tender  feeling,  and  you  will  do  for  the  language  what  Julius 
Caesar  did  for  the  people.  You  wull  be  a  conqueror,  and  will  culti- 
vate and  polish  barbarians !" 

Gottsched  did  not  perceive  the  mockery  which  lay  in  these  words 
of  the  king,   but  received  them  smilingly  as  agreeable  flatterj'. 

•  The  king's  own  words.— Archenholtz,  vol.  ii.,  p.  273. 

t  Many  years  afterward  the  king  repeated  this  declaration  of  Gottsched  to  tlw 
Dxicbei:»  of  Ootlia,  "  We  will  change  all  that,"  and  was  highly  amused. 


THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR.         4^9 

"The  German  language  is  well  fitted  to  express  tender  emotions. 
I  pledge  myself  to  translate  any  French  poem  faithfully,  and  at  the 
same  time  melodiously,"  said  he. 

"  I  will  put  you  to  the  proof,  at  once, "  said  the  king,  opening 
a  book  which  lay  upon  the  table.  "  Look  !  These  are  the  Odes  of 
Rousseau,  and  we  will  take  the  first  one  which  accident  presents. 
Listen  to  this ; 

" '  Sous  un  plus  heureux  auspice, 

La  D6esse  des  amours, 
Veut  qu'un  nouveau  sacrifice, 

Lui  consacre  vos  beaux  joura; 
D6jd,  le  bflcher  s'allume. 
L'autel  brille,  I'encens  fume, 

La  victime  sVmbellit, 
L'amour  meme  la  consume, 

I^  myst^re  s'accomplit.'  * 

"  Do  you  believe  it  is  possible  to  translate  this  beauiful  stanza 
into  German  ?"  said  the  king. 

"If  your  majesty  allows  me,  I  will  translate  it  at  once,"  said  he. 
"  Give  me  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil. " 

"  Take  them, "  said  Frederick.  "  We  will  divert  ourselves  by  a 
little  rivalry  in  song,  while  you  translate  the  verses  of  the  French 
poet  into  German.  I  will  sing  to  the  praise  of  the  German  author 
in  French  rhyme.     Let  us  not  disturb  each  other. " 

Frederick  stepped  to  the  window  and  wrote  off  hastily  a  few 
verses,  tlien  waited  till  he  saw  that  Gottsched  liad  also  ceased  to 
write.     "  I  am  ready,  sir, "  said  the  king. 

"  And  I  also, "  said  the  scholar,  solemnly.  "  Listen,  your  majesty, 
and  be  pleased  to  take  the  book  and  compare  as  I  read  ;"  then  with 
a  loud  nasal  voice  he  read  his  translation : 

" '  Mit  ungleicli  glttcklicherm  Geschicke, 
Gtebeut  die  KOnigin  zarter  Pein, 
Hin,  Delne  schonen  Augenblicke, 
Zum  Opfer  noch  eiumal  zu  weihn. 
Den  Holzstoss  liebt  man  auf zugeben, 
Der  Altar  glanzt,  des  Weihrauchs  DUfte 
Durchdringen  schon  die  weiten  Ltlfte, 
Das  Opfer  wird  gedoppelt  scliOn, 
Durch  Amors  Glut  ist  es  verflogen, 
Und  das  Geheimniss  wi:  d  vollzogen.' 

"  Now,  your  majesty, "  said  Gottsched,  "  do  you  not  find  that  the 
German  language  is  capable  of  repeating  the  French  verses  promptly 
and  concisely?" 

"  I  am  astonished  that  you  have  been  able  to  translate  this  beauti' 
*  See  note,  page  578. 


430       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ful  poem.  I  am  sorry  I  am  too  old  to  learn  German.  I  regret  that 
in  my  youth  I  had  neither  the  courage  nor  the  instruction  necessary. 
I  would  certainly  have  turned  many  of  my  leisure  hours  to  the 
translation  of  German  authors,  rather  than  to  Roman  and  French 
writers  ;  but  the  past  cannot  be  recalled,  and  I  must  be  content !  If 
I  can  never  hope  to  become  a  German  writer,  it  will  at  least  be 
granted  me  to  sing  the  praises  of  the  regenerator  of  the  German  Ian- 
guage  in  French  verse.     I  have  sought  to  do  so  now — listen  !" 

Tlie  king  read  aloud  a  few  verses  to  the  enraptured  professor. 
The  immoderate  praise  enchanted  him,  and,  in  the  assurance  of  his 
pride  and  conceit,  he  did  not  remark  the  fine  irony  concealed  in 
them.  With  a  raised  voice,  and  a  graceful,  bantering  smile,  tlie 
king  concluded : 

"  C'est  k  toi  Cygne  des  Saxons, 
D'arracher  ce  secret  3,  la  nature  avare  ; 
D'adoucir  dans  tes  chants  d'une  langue  barbare, 
Les  durs  et  d6testables  sons  !  "  * 

"  Ah !  your  majesty, "  cried  Gottsched,  forgetting  his  indignation 
over  the  langue  barbare,  in  his  rapture  at  the  praise  he  had  received, 
"you  are  kind  and  cruel  at  the  same  moment.  You  cast  reproach 
upon  our  poor  language,  and,  at  the  same  time,  give  me  right  royal 
praise.  Cygne  des  Saa:ons — that  is  an  epithet  which  does  honor  to 
the  royal  giver,  and  to  the  happy  receiver.  For  a  king  and  a  hero, 
there  can  be  no  higher  fame  than  to  appreciate  and  reverence  men 
of  letters.  The  sons  of  Apollo  and  the  Muses,  the  scholars,  the 
artists  and  authors,  have  no  more  exalted  object  than  to  attain  the 
acknowledgment  and  consideration  of  the  king  and  the  hero.  Sire, 
I  make  you  a  most  profound  and  grateful  reverence.  You  have 
composed  a  masterly  little  poem,  and  when  the  Cygne  des  Saxons 
shall  sing  his  swanlike  song,  it  will  be  in  honor  of  the  great  Fred- 
erick, the  Caesar  of  his  time. " 

"Now,mydear  Quintus, "  said  the  king,  after  Gottsched  had  with- 
drawn, "are  you  content  with  your  great  scholar?" 

"  Sire, "  said  he,  "  I  must  sorrowfully  confess  that  the  great  Gott- 
sched has  covered  his  head  with  a  little  too  much  of  the  dust  of 
learning ;  he  is  too  much  of  the  pedant. " 

"He  is  a  puffed-up,  conceited  fool,"  said  the  king,  impatiently  ; 
"and  you  can  never  convince  me  that  ho  is  a  great  genius.  Great 
men  are  modest ;  they  have  an  exalted  aim  ever  before  them,  and 
are  never  satisfied  with  themselves ;  but  men  like  this  Gottsched 
place  themselves  upon  an  altar,  and  fall  down  and  worship.  Tliis 
is  their  only  reward,  and  they  will  never  do  any  thing  truly  great. " 

"  But  Gottsched  has  really  great  and  imperishable  merit, "  said 

*  (Suvres  Posthumes,  vol.  vii.,  p.  216.    See  note,  p.  572. 


THE  KING  AND  THE  GERMAN  SCHOLAR.  431 

Quintus,  eagerly.  "He  has  done  much  for  the  language,  much  for 
culture,  and  for  science.  All  Germany  honors  him,  and,  if  the  in- 
cense offered  him  has  turned  his  head,  we  must  forgive  him,  be- 
cause of  the  great  service  he  has  rendered. " 

"  I  can  never  believe  that  he  is  a  great  man,  or  a  poet.  He  had 
the  audacity  to  speak  of  the  golden  era  of  literature  which  bloomed 
in  the  time  of  my  grandfather,  Frederick  I. ,  in  Germany,  and  he 
was  so  foolhardy  as  to  mention  some  German  scribblers  of  that  time, 
whose  barbarous  names  no  one  knows,  as  the  equals  of  Racine,  and 
Comeille,  and  even  of  Virgil.  Repeat  to  me,  once  more,  the  names 
of  those  departed  geniuses,  that  I  may  know  the  rivals  of  the  great 
writers  of  the  day  !" 

"He  spoke  of  Bessen  and  Neukirch, "  said  Quintus  ;  "I  must  con- 
fess it  savors  of  audacity  to  compare  these  men  with  Racine  and 
Comeille  ;  he  did  this,  perhaps,  to  excite  the  interest  of  your  majesty, 
as  it  is  well  known  that  the  great  Frederick,  to  whom  all  Germany 
renders  homage,  attributes  all  that  is  good  and  honorable  to  the 
German,  but  has  a  poor  opinion  of  his  intellect,  his  learning,  and 
his  wit." 

The  king  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  servant  entered  and  gave 
him  a  letter  from  the  professor,  Gottsched. 

"I  find,  Quintus,"  said  the  king,  "that  my  brother  in  Apollo 
does  me  the  honor  to  treat  me  with  confidence.  If  I  was  at  all  dis- 
posed to  be  arrogant,  I  might  finally  imagine  myself  to  be  his  equal. 
Let  us  see  with  what  sort  of  dedication  the  Cygne  des  Saxons  has 
honored  us. "  He  opened  the  letter,  and  while  reading,  his  counte- 
nance cleared,  and  he  burst  out  into  a  loud,  joyous  laugh.  "Well, 
you  must  read  this  poem,  and  tell  me  if  it  is  pure  German  and  true 
poetry."  The  king,  assuming  the  attitude  of  a  great  tragedian, 
stepped  forward  with  a  nasal  voice,  and  exactly  in  the  pompous 
manner  of  Gottsched,  he  read  the  poem  aloud.  "  Be  pleased  to  re- 
mark," said  the  king,  with  assumed  solemnity,  "that  Gottsched 
announces  himself  as  the  Pindar  of  Germany,  and  he  will  have  the 
goodness  to  commend  me  in  his  rhymes  to  after-centuries.  And 
now,  tell  me,  Quintus,  if  this  is  German  poetry?  Is  your  innermost 
soul  inspired  by  these  exalted  lines?" 

"  Sire, "  said  Quintus  Icilius,  "  I  abandon  my  renowned  scholar, 
and  freely  confess  that  your  majesty  judged  him  correctly  ;  he  is  an 
insufferable  fool  and  simpleton." 

"  Not  so ;  but  he  is  a  German  scholar, "  said  the  king,  patheti- 
cally ;  "  one  of  the  great  pillars  which  support  the  weight  of  the 
great  temple  of  German  science  and  poetry." 

"  Sire,  I  offer  up  my  German  scholar  ;  I  lay  him  upon  the  altar  of 
j^our  just  iron^.    You  maj?  tear  him  to  pieces ;  4J8  js  ^"ours.    gyt  I 


432        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

pray  you,  therefore,  to  be  gracious,  sire,  and  promise  me  to  receive 
my  poet  kindly. " 

"  I  promise, "  said  the  king :  "  I  tvish  also  to  become  acquainted 
with  this  model. 

"  Promise  me,  however,  one  thing.  If  the  German  poet  resembles 
the  German  scholar,  you  will  make  me  no  reproaches  if  I  turn  away 
from  all  such  commodities  in  future?" 


CHAPTER    XII. 

GELLERT. 

Gellert  was  just  returning  from  the  university,  where,  in  the 
large  hall,  he  had  recommenced  his  lectures  on  morality.  A  large 
audience  had  assembled,  who  had  given  the  most  undivided  atten- 
tion to  their  beloved  master.  As  he  left  the  rostrum  the  assembly, 
entirely  contrary  to  their  usual  custom,  burst  forth  in  loud  applause, 
and  all  pressed  forward  to  welcome  the  beloved  teacher  on  his  return 
to  his  academic  duties  after  his  severe  illness. 

These  proofs  of  love  had  touched  the  sensitive  German  poet  so 
deeply  in  his  present  nervous  and  suffering  condition,  that  he 
reached  his  lodging  deathly  pale  and  with  trembling  knees  ;  utterly 
exhausted,  he  threw  himself  into  his  arm-chair,  the  only  article  of 
luxury  in  his  simple  study. 

The  old  man,  who  sat  near  the  window  in  this  study,  was  busily 
engaged  in  reading,  and  paid  him  no  attention ;  although  Gellert 
coughed  several  times,  he  did  not  appear  to  remark  his  presence,  and 
continued  to  read. 

"Conrad,"  said  Gellert,  at  length,  in  a  friendly,  pleading  tone. 

"Professor,"  answei'ed  the  old  man,  as  he  looked  up  unwillingly 
from  his  book. 

"Conrad,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  might  stand  up  when  I  enter  ; 
not,  perhaps,  so  much  out  of  respect  for  your  master,  as  because  he 
is  delicate  and  weak,  and  needs  your  assistance. " 

"Professor,"  said  the  old  man,  with  composure,  "I  only  intended 
finishing  the  chapter  which  I  have  just  commenced,  and  then  I 
should  have  risen.  You  came  a  little  too  soon.  It  was  yotir  own 
fault  if  I  was  compelled  to  read  after  you  came. " 

Gellert  smiled.  "  What  book  were  you  reading  so  earnestly,  my 
old  friend?" 

"  The  '  Swedish  Countess, '  professor.  You  know  it  is  my  favorite 
^k.    I  e^m  re^^ding  it  now  for  the  twelfth  time,  fijjd  |  8ti]l  tjiifll? 


GELLERT.  433 

it  the  most  beautiful  and  touching,  as  well  as  the  most  sensible  book 
I  ever  read.  It  is  entirely  beyond  my  comprehension,  professor, 
how  you  made  it,  and  how  you  could  have  recollected  all  these 
charming  histories.     Who  related  all  that  to  you?" 

"  No  one  related  it  to  me,  it  came  from  my  own  head  and  heart, " 
said  Gellert,  pleasantly.  "But  no,  that  is  a  very  presumptuous 
thought ;  it  did  not  come  from  myself,  but  from  the  great  spirit, 
who  occasionally  sends  a  ray  of  his  Godlike  genius  to  quicken  the 
hearts  and  imaginations  of  poets. " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  professor, "  said  Conrad,  impatiently. 
"Why  do  you  not  talk  like  the  book — I  understand  all  that  the 
'Swedish  Countess'  says,  for  she  speaks  like  other,  people.  She  is 
an  altogether  sensible  and  lovely  woman,  and  I  have  thought  some- 
times, professor — " 

Old  Conrad  hesitated  and  looked  embarrassed. 

"Well,  Conrad,  what  have  you  thought?" 

"  I  have  thought  sometimes,  sir,  perhaps  it  would  be  best  for  you 
to  marry  the  'Swedish  Countess. '" 

Gellert  started  slightly,  and  a  light  flush  mounted  to  his  brow. 

"  I  marry !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  Heaven  protect  me  from  fastening 
such  a  yoke  upon  myself,  or  putting  my  happiness  in  the  power  of 
any  creature  so  fickle,  vain,  capricious,  haughty,  obstinate,  and 
heartless  as  a  woman.  Conrad,  where  did  you  get  this  wild  idea? 
you  know  that  I  hate  women ;  no,  not  hate,  but  fear  them,  as  the 
lamb  fears  the  wolf. " 

"Oh,  sir,"  cried  Conrad,  angrily,  "was  your  mother  not  a 
woman?" 

"  Yes, "  said  Gellert,  softly,  after  a  pause — "  yes,  she  was  a  woman, 
a  whole-hearted,  noble  woman.  She  was  the  golden  star  of  my 
childhood,  the  saintly  ideal  of  the  youth,  as  she  is  now  in  heaven 
the  guardian  angel  of  the  man  ;  there  is  no  woman  like  her,  Conrad. 
She  was  the  impersonation  of  love,  of  self-sacrifice,  of  goodness, 
and  of  devotion. " 

"You  are  right,"  said  Conrad,  softly,  "she  was  a  true  woman; 
the  entire  village  loved  and  honored  her  for  her  benevolence  and 
piety ;  when  she  died,  it  seemed  as  though  we  had  all  lost  a 
mother. " 

"  When  she  died, "  said  Gellert,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
"  my  happiness  and  youth  died  with  her ;  and  when  the  first  hand- 
ful of  earth  fell  upon  her  coflBn  I  felt  as  if  my  heart-strings  broke, 
and  that  feeling  has  never  left  me. " 

"  You  loved  your  mother  too  deeply,  professor, "  said  Conrad ; 
"  that  is  the  reason  you  are  determined  not  tP  love  £^od  marry^  some 
other  wpmi^Q, " 


434        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Why,  mau,  do  not  talk  to  me  again  of  marrying, "  cried  Gellert 
"  What  has  that  fatal  word  to  do  in  my  study  ?" 

"A  great  deal,  sir ;  only  look  how  miserable  every  thing  is  here  ; 
not  even  neat  and  comfortable,  as  it  should  certainly  be  in  the  room 
of  so  learned  and  celebrated  a  professor.  Only  think  of  the  change 
that  would  be  made  by  a  bright  yoiuag  wife.  You  must  marry,  pro- 
fessor, and  the  lady  must  be  rich.  This  state  of  things  cannot  con- 
tinue ;  you  must  take  a  wife,  for  you  cannot  live  on  your  celebrity. " 

"  No,  Conrad,  but  on  my  salary, "  said  Gellert.  "  I  receive  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thalers  from  my  professorship ;  only  think,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thalers  !  That  is  a  great  deal  for  a  German  poet, 
Conrad ;  I  should  consider  myself  most  fortunate.  It  is  sufficient 
for  my  necessities,  and  will  certainly  keep  me  from  want." 

"  It  would  be  sufficient,  professor,  if  we  were  not  so  extravagant. 
I  am  an  old  man,  and  you  may  very  well  listen  to  a  word  from  me. 
I  served  your  father  for  fifteen  years — in  fact,  you  inherited  me 
from  him.  I  have  the  right  to  speak.  If  it  goes  so  far,  I  will  hun- 
ger and  thirst  with  you,  but  it  makes  me  angry  that  we  should 
hunger  and  thirst  when  there  is  no  necessity.  Have  you  dined  to- 
day?" 

"  No,  Conrad, "  said  Gellert,  looking  embarrassed.  "  I  had,  acci- 
dentally, no  money  with  me  as  I  came  out  of  the  academy,  and  you 
know  that  I  do  not  like  to  go  to  the  eating-house  without  paying 
immediately." 

"  Accidentally  you  had  no  money?  You  had  probably  left  it  at 
home. " 

"  Yes,  Conrad,  I  had  left  it  at  home. " 

"No,  sir ;  you  gave  your  last  thaler  to  the  student  who  came  this 
morning  and  told  you  of  his  necessities,  and  complained  so  bitterly 
that  he  had  eaten  nothing  warm  for  three  days.  You  gave  your 
money  to  him,  and  that  was  not  right,  for  now  we  have  nothing 
ourselves. " 

"Yes,  Conard,  it  was  right,  it  was  my  duty;  he  hungered  and  I 
was  full ;  he  was  poor  and  in  want,  and  I  had  money,  and  sat  iij. 
my  warm,  comfortable  room ;  it  was  quite  right  for  me  to  help 
him." 

"Yes,  you  say  so  always,  sir,  and  our  money  all  goes  to  the 
devil,"  muttered  Conrad.  "With  what  shall  we  satisfy  ourselves 
to-day?" 

"  Well, "  said  Gellert,  after  a  pause,  "  we  will  drink  some  cofifee, 
and  eat  some  bread  and  butter.  CoflFee  is  an  excellent  beverage,  and 
peculiarly  acceptable  to  poets,  for  it  enlivens  the  fancy." 

"And  leaves  the  stomach  empty,"  said  Conrad. 

"  W?  b»Tt;  bjr^f^d  ^nd  butter  to  9£vtisfy  that.    Ab»  Conrad,  I  ^syr? 


GELLEIiT.  435 

you  we  would  often  have  been  very  happy  in  my  father's  parsonage 
if  we  had  liad  coflFee  and  bread  and  butter  for  our  dinner.  We  were 
thirteen  children,  besides  my  father  and  mother,  and  my  father's 
salary  was  not  more  than  two  hundred  thalers.  Conrad,  he  had  less 
than  I,  and  he  had  to  provide  for  thirteen  children. " 

"  As  if  you  had  not  provided  for  yourself  since  you  were  eleven 
years  old — as  if  I  had  not  seen  you  copying  late  into  the  night  to 
earn  money,  at  an  age  when  other  children  scarcely  know  what 
money  is,  and  know  still  less  of  work." 

"  But  when  I  carried  the  money  which  I  had  earned  to  my  mother, 
she  kissed  me  so  tenderly,  and  called  me  her  brave,  noble  son — that 
was  a  greater  reward  than  all  the  money  in  the  world.  And  when 
the  next  Christmas  came,  and  we  were  all  thirteen  so  happy,  and 
each  one  received  a  plate  filled  with  nuts  and  apples  and  little  pres- 
ents, I  received  a  shining  new  coat.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
had  a  coat  of  new  cloth.  My  mother  had  bought  the  material  with 
the  money  I  had  earned.  She  had  kept  it  all,  and  now  my  writings 
had  changed  into  a  beautiful  coat,  which  I  wore  with  pride  and 
delight.  No  coat  is  so  comfortable  as  one  we  have  earned  ourselves. 
The  self -earned  coat  is  the  royal  mantle  of  the  poor." 

"  But  we  need  not  be  poor, "  scolded  Conrad.  "  It  is  that  which 
makes  me  angry.  If  we  were  careful,  we  could  live  comfortably  and 
free  from  care  on  two  hundred  and  fifty  thalers.  But  every  thing  is 
given  away,  and  every  thing  is  done  for  others,  until  we  have  notii- 
ing  left  for  ourselves. " 

"  We  have  never  gone  hungry  to  bed,  Conrad,  and  we  need  not 
hunger.  To-day  we  have  coffee,  and  bread  and  butter,  and  to- 
morrow I  will  receive  something  from  my  publishers  from  the 
fourth  edition  of  my  fables.  It  is  not  much,  it  will  be  about  twenty 
thalers,  but  we  will  be  able  to  live  a  long  time  on  that.  Be  content, 
Conrad,  and  go  now  into  the  kitchen  and  prepare  the  coffee  ;  I  am 
really  rather  hungry.  Well,  Conrad,  you  still  appear  discontented. 
Have  you  another  grievance  in  reserve?" 

"Yes,  professor,  I  have  another.  The  beadle  tells  me  that  the 
university  have  offered  you  a  still  higher  position  than  the  one  you 
now  hold.     Is  it  true?" 

"  Yes,  Conrad,  it  is  true.  They  wished  me  to  become  a  regular 
professor. " 

"And  you  declined f 

"  I  declined.  I  would  have  been  obliged  to  be  present  at  all  the  con- 
ferences. I  would  have  had  more  trouble,  and  if  I  had  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  become  rector  I  would  have  been  lost  indeed,  for  the 
rector  represents  the  university  ;  and  if  any  royal  personages  should 
arrive  it  is  he  who  must  receive  them  and  welcome  them  in  the 


436       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

name  of  the  university.  No,  no ;  protect  me  from  such  honors.  I 
do  not  desire  intercourse  with  great  men.  I  prefer  my  present  posi- 
tion and  small  salary,  and  the  liberty  of  sitting  quietly  in  my 
own  study,  to  a  regular  professorship  and  a  higher  salary,  and  being 
forced  to  dance  attendance  in  the  antechambers  of  great  people. 
Then,  in  addition  to  that,  I  am  delicate,  and  that  alone  would  pre- 
vent me  from  attending  as  many  lectures  as  the  government  requires 
from  a  regular  high-salaried  professor.  You  must  never  receive 
money  for  work  that  you  have  not  done  and  cannot  do.  Now,  Con- 
rad, those  are  my  reasons  for  declining  this  situation  for  the  second 
time.  I  think  you  will  be  contented  now,  and  prepare  me  an  excel- 
lent cup  of  coffee. " 

"  It  is  a  shame,  nevertheless, "  said  Conrad,  "  that  they  should  say 
you  are  not  a  regular  professor.  But  that  is  because  you  have  no 
wife.  If  the  Swedish  countess  were  here,  every  thing  would  be 
changed  ;  your  study  would  be  nicely  arranged,  and  you  would  be 
so  neatly  dressed,  that  no  one  would  dare  to  say  you  were  not  a  reg- 
ular professor. " 

"But  that  is  no  offence,  Conrad,"  cried  Gellert,  laughing.  "In 
the  sense  in  which  you  understand  it,  I  am  more  now  than  if  I  had 
accepted  this  other  position,  for  I  am  now  called  an  extraordinary 
professor. " 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  that  they  know  that  you  are  an  extraordinary 
professor,"  said  Conrad,  somewhat  appeased.  "Now  I  will  go  to 
the  kitchen  and  make  the  coffee.  That  reminds  me  that  I  have  a 
letter  for  you  which  was  left  by  a  servant. " 

He  took  a  letter  from  the  table,  and  handed  it  to  his  master. 
While  he  was  breaking  the  seal,  Conrad  approached  the  door  slowly 
and  hesitatingly,  evidently  curious  to  hear  the  contents  of  the  letter. 
He  had  not  reached  the  door,  when  Gellert  recalled  him. 

"Conrad,"  said  Gellert,  with  a  trembling  voice,  "hear  what  this 
letter  contains. " 

"  Well,  I  am  really  curious, "  said  Conrad,  smiling. 

Gellert  took  the  letter  and  commenced  reading : 

"  My  dear  and  honored  professor,  will  you  allow  one  of  your — " 

Here  he  hesitated,  and  his  face  flushed  deeply.     "No,"  he  said, 
softly ;  "  I  cannot  read  that ;  it  is  too  great,  too  undeserved  praise ; 
of  myself.     Read  it  yourself. " 

"Nonsense !"  said  Conrad,  taking  the  letter  ;  "the  professor  is  as 
bashful  as  a  young  girl.  To  read  one's  praise,  is  no  shame.  Now 
listen  :  'My  dear  and  honored  professor,  will  you  allow  one  of  your 
pupils  to  seek  a  favor  from  you  ?  lam  rich  !  God  has  enriched  you 
with  the  rarest  gifts  of  mind  and  heart,  but  He  has  not  bestowed 
outward  wealth  upon  you.     Your  salary  is  not  large,  but  your  heart 


GELLERT.  437 

in  so  great  and  noble,  that  you  give  the  little  you  possess  to  the  poor 
and  suffering,  and  care  for  others  while  you  yourself  need  care. 
Allow  me,  my  much-loved  master,  something  of  that  same  happi- 
ness which  you  enjoy.  Grant  me  the  pleasure  of  offering  you  (who 
divide  your  bread  with  the  poor,  and  your  last  thaler  with  the  suf- 
fering) a  small  addition  to  your  salary,  and  begging  you  to  use  it 
so  long  as  God  leaves  you  upon  earth,  to  be  the  delight  of  your 
scholars,  and  the  pride  of  Germany.  The  banker  Farenthal  has 
orders  to  pay  to  you  quarterly  the  sum  of  two  hundred  thalers ;  you 
will  to-morrow  receive  the  first  instalment. 

"'Your  grateful  and  admirino  pupil.' 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah  !"  cried  Conrad,  waving  the  paper  aloft.  "  Now 
we  ai'e  rich,  we  can  live  comfortably,  without  care.  Oh,  I  will 
take  care  of  you,  and  you  must  drink  a  glass  of  wine  every  day,  in 
order  to  become  strong,  and  I  will  bring  your  dinner  from  the  best 
eating-house,  that  you  may  enjoy  your  meal  in  peace  and  quiet  in 
your  own  room. " 

"  Gently,  gently,  Conrad  !"  said  GeUert,  smiling.  "  In  your  de- 
light over  the  money,  you  forget  the  noble  giver.  Who  can  it  be? 
Who  among  my  pupils  is  so  rich  and  so  delicate,  as  to  bestow  so 
generously,  and  in  such  a  manner?" 

"  It  is  some  one  who  does  not  wish  us  to  know  his  name,  pro- 
fessor, "  cried  Conrad,  gayly ;  "  and  we  will  not  break  our  hearts 
over  it.  But  now,  sir,  we  will  not  content  ourselves  with  bread 
and  coffee  ;  we  are  rich,  and  we  need  not  live  so  poorly  I  I  will  go 
to  the  eating-house  and  bring  you  a  nice  broiled  capon,  and  some 
preserved  fruit,  and  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  It  is  true, "  said  GeUert,  well  pleased  ;  "  a  capon  would  strengthen 
me,  and  a  glass  of  wine  ;  but  no,  Conrad,  we  will  have  the  coffee  ; 
we  have  no  money  to  pay  for  such  a  meal. " 

"Well,  we  can  borrow  it !  To-morrow  you  will  receive  the  first 
quarterly  payment  of  your  pension,  and  then  I  will  pay  for  your 
dinner. " 

"No,  Conrad,  no!"  said  GeUert,  finnly.  "You  should  never  eat 
what  you  cannot  pay  for  immediately.  Go  to  the  kitchen  and  make 
the  coffee."  Conrad  was  on  the  point  of  going  discontentedly  <> 
obey  the  command  of  his  master,  when  a  loud  and  hasty  ring  was 
heard  at  the  outer  door  of  the  professor's  modest  lodging. 

"Perhaps  the  banker  has  sent  the  money  to-day,"  cried  Conrad, 
as  he  hurried  off,  whilst  Grellert  again  took  the  letter  and  examined 
the  handwriting. 

But  Conrad  returned,  looking  very  important. 

"The  Prussian  major,  Quintus  Icilius,*  wishes  to  speak  to  the 
professoi",  in  the  name  of  the  king,"  he  said,  solemnly. 


438        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HlS  FAMILY. 

"In  the  name  of  the  king  !"  cried  Gellert ;  "what  does  the  great 
warrior  hero  want  with  poor  Grellert?" 

"That  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  a  voice  from  the  door;  and  as 
Gellert  turned,  he  saw  before  him  the  tall  figure  of  a  Prussian  offi- 
cer. "Pardon  me  for  having  entered  without  your  permission. 
Your  servant  left  the  door  open,  and  I  thought — " 

"  You  thought,  I  hope,  that  Gellert  would  be  happy  to  receive  an 
officer  from  the  king,  especially  one  who  bears  so  celebrated  a 
name, "  said  Gellert,  courteously,  as  he  signed  to  Conrad  to  leave  the 
room — a  sign  that  Conrad  obeyed  most  unwillingly,  and  with  the 
firm  determination  to  listen  outside  the  door. 

"  In  the  first  place,  allow  me  to  say  how  happy  I  am  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  so  learned  and  celebrated  a  man  as  Professor  Gel- 
lert, "  said  Quintus,  bowing  deeply ;  "  then  I  must  announce  the 
cause  of  my  appearance.  His  majesty  the  King  of  Prussia  wishes 
to  know  you,  and  he  has  sent  me  to  conduct  you  to  him  at  once. " 

"At  once?"  cried  Gellert.  "But,  sir,  you  must  see  that  I  am 
weak  and  ill.  The  king  will  not  care  to  see  a  sick  man  who  cannot 
talk." 

Quintus  glanced  sympathizingly  at  the  poor  professor,  and  said  : 

"  It  is  true,  you  do  not  look  well,  and  I  cannot  force  you  to  go 
with  me  to-day  ;  but  allow  me  to  make  one  remark  :  if  you  think  to 
escape  the  interview  altogether,  you  are  mistaken.  The  king  de- 
sires to  speak  with  you,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  bring  you  to  him.  If 
you  cannot  go  to-day,  I  must  return  to-morrow  ;  if  you  are  then  still 
unwell,  the  day  after ;  and  so  on  every  day,  until  you  accompany 
me." 

"  But  this  is  frightful !"  cried  Gellert,  anxiously. 

Quintus  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "You  must  decide,  sir,"  he 
said  ;  "  I  give  you  an  hour.  At  four  o'clock  I  will  return  and  ask  if 
you  will  go  to-day,  or  another  time. " 

"  Yes  ;  do  that,  major, "  said  Gellert,  breathing  more  freely.  "  In 
the  mean  time,  I  will  take  my  dinner,  and  then  see  how  it  is  with 
my  courage.  Conrad !  Conrad !"  exclaimed  Gellert,  as  Quintus 
Icilius  left  him,  and  his  servant  entered  the  room.  "Conrad,  did 
you  hear  the  bad  tidings?    I  must  go  to  the  King  of  Prussia. " 

"  I  heard, "  said  Conrad,  "  and  I  do  not  think  it  bad  tidings,  but  a 
great  honor.  The  king  sent  for  Professor  Gottsched  a  few  days 
since,  and  conversed  with  him  a  long  time.  Since  then,  his  entire 
household  act  as  if  Gottsched  were  the  Almighty  Himself,  and  as  if 
they  were  all,  at  least,  archangels.  Therefore,  I  am  glad  that  the 
king  has  shown  you  the  same  honor,  and  that  he  desires  to  know 
you. " 

"Honor !"  murmured  Gellert.     "This  great  lord  wishes  to  see  the 


THE  POET  AND  THE  KING.  439 

learned  Germans  for  once,  as  others  visit  a  menagerie,  and  look  at 
the  monkeys,  and  amuse  themselves  with  their  vi'onderful  tricka. 
It  is  the  merest  curiosity  which  leads  such  men  to  desire  to  behold 
the  tricks  and  pranks  of  a  professor.  They  know  nothing  of  our 
minds ;  it  satisfies  them  to  look  at  us.  Conrad,  I  will  not  go ;  I 
will  be  ill  to-day  and  every  other  day.  We  will  see  if  this  modern 
Icilius  will  not  yield  !" 

And  the  usually  gentle  and  yielding  poet  paced  the  room  in  angry 
excitement,  his  eyes  flashing,  and  his  face  deeply  flushed. 

"I  will  not — I  will  not  go." 

"You  must  go,  professor,"  said  Conrad,  placing  himself  imme- 
diately in  front  of  his  master,  and  looking  at  him  half- imploringly, 
half-tlireateningly — "you  must  go;  you  will  give  your  old  Conrad 
the  pleasure  of  being  able  to  say  to  the  impudent  servants  of  Herr 
Gottsched  that  my  master  has  also  been  to  the  King  of  Prussia. 
You  will  not  do  me  the  injuiy  of  making  me  serve  a  master  who 
has  not  been  to  see  the  king,  while  Herr  Gottsched  has  been  ?" 

"But,  Conrad,"  said  Gellert,  complain ingly,  "what  good  will  it 
have  done  me  to  have  declined  the  position  of  regular  professor, 
that  I  might  be  in  no  danger  of  becoming  rector,  and  being  obliged 
to  see  kings  and  princes?" 

"It  will  show  the  world,"  said  Conrad,  "that  a  poet  need  not  be 
a  regular  professor  in  order  to  be  called  into  the  society  of  kings 
and  princes.  You  must  go — the  king  expects  you  ;  and  if  you  do 
not  go,  you  will  appear  as  the  Austrians  do,  afraid  of  the  King  of 
Prussia. " 

"That  is  true,"  said  Gellert,  whose  excitement  had  somewhat 
subsided  ;  "  it  will  look  as  though  I  were  afraid. " 

"  And  so  distinguished  a  man  should  fear  nothing, "  said  Conrad, 
"not  even  a  king. " 

"  Well,  so  be  it, "  said  Gellert,  smiling,  "  I  will  go  to  the  king 
to-day,  but  I  must  first  eat  something  ;  if  I  went  fasting  to  the  king 
I  might  faint,  and  that  would  disgrace  you  forever,  Conrad. " 

"  I  will  rxm  and  bring  the  coffee, "  said  the  delighted  old  servant. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE     POET     AND     THE     KING. 

Gellert  had  scarcely  finished  his  frugal  meal,  and  arranged  his 
toilet  a  little,  when  Major  Quintus  aiTived  and  asked  the  poet  if  he 
were  still  too  unwell  to  accompany  him  to  Ihe  king. 

"I  am  still  indisposed,"  said  Gellert,  with  a  sad  smile,  "but  my 


440       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

indisposition  is  of  a  kind  that  leaves  me  neither  to-day,  to-moiTow, 
nor  any  day  ;  it  is  therefore  better  for  me  to  gratify  the  king's  com- 
mands at  once.  I  am  ready  to  accompany  you,  sir ;  let  us  de 
part. " 

He  took  his  three-cornered  hat,  which  Conrad  handed  him  with 
a  delightful  smirk,  and  followed  the  major  to  the  splendid  house 
where  the  king  had  taken  his  quarters  for  the  winter. 

"  Allow  me  a  favor,  sir, "  said  QuintuS,  as  they  mounted  the  steps ; 
"  the  king  is  prejudiced  against  German  poets  and  philosophers,  and 
it  would  be  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  the  literary  and  political 
world  of  Germany  for  these  prejudices  to  disappear,  and  for  the 
great  Frederick  to  give  to  Germany  the  sympathy  and  encourage- 
ment which  until  now  lie  has  lavished  upon  the  French  and  Italians. 
Think  of  this,  sir,  and  endeavor  to  win  the  king  by  your  obliging 
and  pleasing  manner. " 

"  Oh,  major !"  sighed  Gellert,  "  I  do  not  understand  the  art  of 
pleasing  the  great  ones  of  this  woi-ld.  I  cannot  utter  words  of 
praise  and  flattery  ;  my  heart  and  manners  are  simple  and  not 
showy. " 

"Exactly,  this  is  beautiful  and  attractive,"  said  the  major,  smil- 
ing :  "the  king  cannot  endure  pretension  or  conceited  wisdom.  Be 
simply  yourself  ;  imagine  that  you  are  in  your  own  study,  convers- 
ing frankly  and  freely  with  a  highly-honored  friend,  to  whom 
politeness  and  attention  are  due." 

The  king,  with  his  flute  in  hand,  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
room,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Major  Quintus  entered  with 
Gellert. 

Frederick  immediately  laid  his  flute  aside,  and  advanced  to 
meet  the  poet  witli  a  gracious  smile.  Gellert's  gentle  and  intellec. 
tual  countenance  was  composed,  and  his  eyes  were  not  cast  doAvn  oi 
confused  by  the  piercing  glance  of  the  king. 

"Is  this  Professor  Gellert?"  said  the  king,  with  a  slight  saluta- 
tion. 

"Yes,  your  majesty,"  said  Gellert,  bowing  profoundly. 

"  The  English  ambassador  has  spoken  well  of  you, "  said  the  king ; 
"  he  has  read  many  of  your  works. " 

"That  proves  him  to  be  a  thoughtful  and  benevolent  gentleman, 
\who  hopes  something  from  German  writers,"  said  Gellert,  signifi- 
Icantly. 

Frederick  smiled,  and  perhaps  to  excite  him  still  more,  said 
quickly : 

"  Tell  me,  how  does  it  happen,  Gellert,  that  we  have  so  few  cele- 
brated writers?" 

"  Your  majesty  sees  before  you  now  a  German  poet  whom  even 


fHE  POET  AND  THE  KING.  441 

the   French  have  translated,  and  who  call  him  the  German  La 
Fontaine. " 

"  That  is  great  praise,  great  praise, "  said  the  king,  whose  large 
eyes  fastened  themselves  more  attentively  upon  Gellert's  modest, 
expressive  face.  "You  are  then  called  the  German  La  Fontaine? 
Have  you  ever  read  La  Fontaine?" 

"Yes,  sire,  but  I  did  not  imitate  him, "  said  Gellert,  ingenuously, 
"  I  am  an  original. " 

The  king  nodded  gayly  ;  Gellert's  quick  frankness  pleased  him. 

"  Good, "  he  said,  "  you  ai'e  an  excellent  poet ;  but  why  do  you 
stand  alone?" 

Gellert  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"Your  majesty  is  prejudiced  against  the  Germans." 

"No,  I  cannot  admit  that,"  said  the  king,  quickly. 

"  At  least  against  Genuan  writers, "  replied  Gellert. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  ;  I  cannot  deny  tliat.  Why  have  we  no  good 
writers  in  Germany?" 

"We  have  them,  sire,"  said  Gellert,  with  noble  pride.  "We 
boast  a  Maskow,  a  Kramer — who  has  set  Bossuet  aside. " 

"How!"  cried  the  king,  astonished;  "Bossuet?  Ah,  sir,  how  is 
it  possible  for  a  German  to  set  Bossuet  aside?" 

"Kramer  has  done  so,  and  with  great  success,"  said  Gellert, 
smiling.  "One  of  your  majesty's  most  learned  professors  has  said 
that  Kramer  has  the  eloquence  of  Bossuet,  and  more  profoimd  his- 
torical accuracy. " 

The  king  appeared  really  astonished,  and  walked  several  times 
thoughtfully  up  and  down  his  room. 

"Was  my  learned  professor  capable  of  deciding  that  question?" 

"  Tlie  world  believes  so,  sire. " 

"Why  does  no  one  translate  Tacitus?" 

"  Tacitus  is  difficult, "  said  Gellert,  smiling  ;  "  there  are  some  bad 
French  translations  of  this  author. " 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  king. 

"  Altogether, "  continued  Gellert,  "  there  are  a  variety  of  reasons 
why  the  Germans  have  not  become  distinguished  in  letters.  When 
art  and  science  bloomed  in  Greece,  the  Romans  were  becoming  re- 
nowned in  war.  Perhaps  the  Germans  have  sought  their  fame  on 
the  battle-field  ;  perhaps  they  had  no  Augustus  or  Louis  XIV.  who 
favored  and  encouraged  the  historians  and  poets  of  Gei-many. " 

Tliis  was  a  daring  and  broad  allusion,  but  Frederick  received  it 
smilingly. 

"  You  have  had  an  Augustus,  perhaps  two,  in  Saxony, "  he  said. 

"And  we  have  made  a  good  commencement  in  Saxony.      We 
should  have  an  Augustus  for  all  of  Germany. " 
29 


442       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"What !"  cried  the  king,  quickly,  and  with  sparkling  eyes  "you 
desire  an  Augustus  for  Germany  ?" 

*'Not  exactly,"  said  Gellert,  "but  I  wish  that  every  German  sov- 
ereign  would  encourage  genius  and  letters  in  his  country.  Genius 
needs  encouragement ;  and  when  it  does  not  find  it  in  its  own  land, 
and  from  its  native  princes,  it  cannot  retain  the  great  and  joyoxia 
power  of  creation." 

The  king  did  not  answer,  but  walked  thoughtfully  up  and  down  ; 
from  time  to  time  he  glanced  quickly  and  searchingly  at  Gellert, 
who  was  standing  opposite  to  him. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  out  of  Saxony?"  said  the  king,  at  last. 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  was  once  in  Berlin. " 

"  You  should  go  again, "  said  the  king — then  added,  as  if  he  re- 
gretted having  shown  the  German  poet  so  much  sympathy,  "  at  all 
events,  you  should  travel. " 

"  To  do  so,  your  majesty,  I  require  health  and  money. "   « 

"Are  you  sick?"  asked  the  king,  in  a  gentle,  sympathizing  voice. 
"  What  is  your  malady  ?    Perhaps  too  much  learning. " 

Gellert  smiled.  "As  your  majesty  thinks  so,  it  may  bear  that 
interpretation.     In  my  mouth  it  would  have  sounded  too  bold. " 

"I  have  had  this  malady  myself,"  said  the  king,  laughing;  "I 
will  cure  you.     You  must  take  exercise — ride  out  every  day. " 

"Ah,  sire,  this  cure  might  easily  produce  a  new  diseasefor  me," 
said  Gellert,  terrified ;  "  if  the  horse  should  be  healthier  than  I,  I 
could  not  ride  it,  and  if  it  were  as  weak  as  myself,  we  would  not  be 
able  to  stir  from  the  spot. " 

"  Then  you  must  drive, "  said  the  king,  laughing. 

"  I  have  not  the  money,  sire. " 

"  That  is  true, "  said  the  king.  "  All  German  writers  need  money, 
and  we  have  fallen  upon  evil  times. " 

"Yes,  truly,  sire,  evil  times ;  but  it  lies  in  your  majesty's  hands 
to  change  all  this,  if  you  would  give  peace  to  Germany." 

"How  can  I?"  cried  the  king,  violently.  "Have  you  not  heard 
that  there  are  three  against  me?" 

"I  care  more  for  ancient  than  modem  history, "said  Gellert,  who 
did  not  desire  to  follow  the  king  upon  the  slippery  field  of  politics. 

"You,  then,  are  accurately  acquainted  with  the  ancients?"  said 
the  king.  "Which,  then,  do  you  think  the  greatest  and  most  re- 
nowned of  that  epoch — Homer  or  Virgil?" 

"  Homer,  I  think,  merits  the  preference,  because  he  is  original. " 

"  But  Virgil  is  more  polished  and  refined. " 

Gellert  shook  his  head  violently.  Now  that  the  old  writers  wer« 
being  discussed,  the  German  sage  overcame  his  timidity. 

"  We  are  entirely  too  widely  separated  from  Virgil  to  be  able  to 


THE  POET  AND  THE  KING.  443 

Judge  of  his  language  and  style.  I  trust  to  Quintilian,  who  gives 
Homer  the  preference. " 

"  But  we  must  not  be  slaves  to  the  judgment  of  the  ancients, " 
said  the  king,  aroused. 

"I  am  not,  sire  ;  I  only  adopt  their  views  when  distance  prevents 
my  judging  for  myself. " 

"  You  are  certainly  right  in  this,  "said  the  king,  kindly.  "Al- 
together you  appear  to  be  a  wise  and  reasonable  man.  I  understand 
that  you  have  greatly  improved  the  German  language. " 

"  Ah,  yes,  sire,  but  unfortunatelj"^  it  has  been  in  vain. " 

"Why  is  this?"  said  the  king.  "You  all  wish  me  to  interest 
myself  in  German,  but  it  is  such  a  barbarous  language,  that  I  often 
have  quires  of  writing  sent  me,  of  which  I  do  not  understand  a 
word.     "Why  is  it  not  otherwise?" 

"  If  your  majesty  cannot  reform  this,  I  certainly  cannot, "  said 
Gellert,  smiling ;  "  I  can  only  advise,  but  you  can  command. " 

"But  your  poems  are  not  written  in  this  stiff,  pompous  G<u-man. 
Do  you  not  know  one  of  your  fables  by  heart?" 

"  I  doubt  it,  sire,  my  memory  is  very  treacherous. " 

"Well,  try  and  think  of  one.  In  the  mean  while  I  will  walk 
backward  and  forward  a  little.     Well,  have  you  thought  of  oi:xe?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty, "  said  Gellert,  after  a  brief  silence  "  I  be- 
lieve I  remember  one. " 

"  Let  us  hear  it, "  said  the  king ;  and,  seating  himself  upon  the 
fauteuil,  he  gazed  fixedly  at  Gellert,  who,  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  his  clear  glance  turned  toward  the  king,  now  began  hw 
recitation. 

"THE  PAINTER. 

"  A  painter,  Athens  his  abode, 

Who  painted  less  for  love  of  gain 

Than  crowns  of  laurel  to  obtain, 
Mars'  portrait  to  a  connoisseur  once  showed, 

And  his  opinion  of  it  sought. 

The  judge  spoke  freely  what  he  thought, 
'Twas  wholly  not  unto  his  taste,  he  said, 

And  that,  to  please  a  practised  eye, 
Far  less  Of  art  should  be  displayed. 

The  painter  failed  not  to  reply, 
And  though  the  critic  blamed  with  skill. 
Was  of  the  same  opinion  still. 

"  Then  in  the  room  a  coxcomb  came, 
To  scan  the  work  with  praise  or  blame. 
He  with  a  glance  its  worth  descried ; 

*  Ye  gods!    Amastei-piece!' hecried. 

*  Ah,  what  a  foot  1  what  skilled  details, 
E'en  to  the  painting  of  the  nails! 


444       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

A  living  Mars  is  here  revealed. 
What  skUl— what  art  in  light  and  shade- 
Both  in  the  helmet  and  the  shield, 

And  in  the  armor  are  displayed  ! ' 

"  The  painter  blushed  with  humbled  prid«, 
Looked  at  the  judge  with  woful  mien, 
'  Too  well  am  I  convinced,'  he  cried, 

'  Unjust  to  me  thou  hast  not  been.' 
The  coxcomb  scarce  had  disappeared. 
When  he  his  god  of  battle  smeared." 

"And  the  moral, "  cried  the  king,  with  vivacity,  as  Greliert  ceased 
for  a  moment. 

"  Here  is  the  moral,  sire : 

"  If  what  you  write  ofiFends  the  critic's  rules, 
It  is  an  evil  sign,  no  doubt ; 
But  when  'tis  lauded  to  the  skies  by  fools, 
'Tis  time,  indeed,  to  blot  it  out." 

"  That  is  beautiful — very  beautiful ;  you  have  something  gallant 
in  your  person.  I  understand  every  thing  you  say.  I  received  a 
translation  of  'Iphigenia'  by  Gottsched,  and  Quintus  read  it  to  me. 
I  had  the  French  with  me,  and  I  did  not  understand  a  word.  He 
also  brought  me  a  poem  by  Pietsh,  but  I  threw  it  aside. " 

"  I  threw  it  aside,  also, "  &aid  Gellert,  smiling. 

The  king  smiled  pleasantly.  "  Should  I  remain  here,  you  must 
come  often  and  bring  your  fables  to  read  to  me. " 

Gellert' s  brow  clouded  slightly.  "  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  a 
good  reader, "  he  said,  in  some  embanassment.  *' I  have  such  a 
sing-song,  monotonous  voice. " 

"Yes,  like  the  Silesians,"  said  the  king,  "but  it  sounds  pleas- 
antly. You  must  read  your  fables  yourself.  No  one  else  can  give 
the  proper  emphasis.     You  must  visit  me  soon  again." 

"Do  not  forget  the  king's  request,"  said  Quintus  Icilius,  as  he 
escorted  Gellert  to  the  door.  "Visit  him  soon,  and  be  assured  you 
shall  never  come  in  vain.  I  will  take  care  that  the  king  receives 
you  always. " 

Gellert  looked  up  smilingly  at  the  major.  "  My  dear  sir,  in  many 
respects  I  am  quite  an  old-fashioned  man  ;  for  example,  I  have  read 
a  great  deal  in  the  Old  Scriptures  for  instruction.  I  have  read, '  Put 
not  your  trust  in  princes. '  These  words  seem  wise  to  me,  and  you 
must  allow  me  to  interpret  them  literally,  and  act  accordingly. " 

Gellert  withdrew,  and  hastened  home.  The  major  returned  to 
the  king,  admiring,  almost  envying,  Gellert's  modest,  independent, 
and  beautiful  character. 

"  Quintus, "  said  tb^  king,  "  I  tbfujk  you  giecerely  for  my  new 


THE  KING  AND  THE  VILLAGE  MAGISTRATE.        445 

German  acquaintance.  The  poet  is  better  than  the  philosopher, 
Gellert  is  the  wisest  and  cleverest  poet  of  his  time— a  much  worthier 
man  than  Gottsched,  with  all  his  pompous  knowledge.  Gellert's 
fame  will  outlive  his.  He  is  perhaps  the  only  German  who  will  not 
be  forgotten.     He  attempts  but  little,  and  succeeds  well. " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  KINO  AND  THE  VILLAGE  MAGISTRATE. 

In  the  little  village  of  Voiseilvitz,  near  the  Sil6sian  frontier, 
there  was  a  great  stir  and  excitement.  The  quai-termaster  of  the 
army  had  just  an'ived  and  announced  the  king's  approach.  He 
then  went  en  to  the  next  village  to  seek  quarters  for  the  army. 
After  their  many  sufferings  and  wants,  the  weary  soldiers  were 
much  in  need  of  rest  and  refreshment.  They  had  passed  many, 
many  miserable  weeks,  during  which  the  most  patient  had  become 
disheartened.  The  king  alone  had  retained  his  courage,  his  pres- 
ence of  mind,  his  activity  and  energy.  He  had  borne,  without 
complaint,  every  want  and  privation.  Surrounded  by  powerful 
enemies,  his  great  and  clear  mind  had  contrived  the  intrenchments 
which  encompas.sed  his  camp,  and  which  had  filled  his  enemies 
with  wonder.  Neither  Daun,  Loudon,  Butterlin,  nor  Ternitschow, 
dared  attack  the  camp  that  had  suddenly  become  a  strong  fortress. 
They  gazed  in  wild  amazement  at  their  daring,  invincible  enemy, 
whom  they  had  so  often  thought  to  ruin,  and  who  had  continually 
with  his  lion  strength  broken  the  nets  they  had  laid  for  him.  Not 
daring  to  attack  him  with  their  cannon  and  their  swords,  the  allies 
relied  upon  another  much  more  fearful  weapon — hunger !  It  was 
impossible  for  the  king,  surrounded  as  he  was  by  enemies,  to  obtain 
food  for  his  troops  and  fodder  for  the  horses.  But  Frederick  did  not 
cease  to  hope  :  he  turned  night  into  day  and  day  into  night ;  thus  he 
was  prepared  for  any  movement.  During  the  day  he  could  observe 
all  that  passed  in  the  enemy's  camp;  a  few  slight  guards  were 
placed  in  the  intrenchments,  while  the  rest  of  the  army  slept.  But 
at  night  they  did  not  sleep ;  as  soon  as  evening  came,  all  the  tents 
were  taken  down,  the  cannon  were  planted,  and  behind  them  the 
regiments  were  placed  in  line  of  battle.  Thus  they  stood  listening 
in  breathless  silence  for  any  sound  or  movement  that  would  announce 
the  enemy's  approach.  All  were  ready  and  waiting  for  them,  de- 
termined to  die  rather  than  surrender. 

In  spite  of  privations,  want  of  rest  and  food,  the  army  remained 
hopeful,  for  their  king  shared  their  danger,   wants,  and  sleepless 


446       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

nights.  He  was  always  with  them — he  hungered  and  worked  with 
them.  If  the  soldiers  were  deprived  of  their  rations,  they  had  at 
least  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  the  king  suffered  likewise. 
This  strengthened  and  encouraged  them. 

The  Prussians  had  fortitude  to  bear  their  sufferings,  but  their 
enemy  had  not  the  patience  to  wait.  Butterlin,  the  Russian  com- 
mander, tired  of  watching  Frederick,  withdrew  to  Poland ;  and 
Loudon,  not  feeling  secure  now  in  his  isolated  position,  retired  also. 

After  four  weeks  of  agony  and  want,  the  Prussian  army  could 
leave  their  encampment  and  seek  both  food  and  rest.  They  were  to 
recruit  themselves  in  the  villages  in  the  vicinity  of  Strehlen ;  the 
king  and  his  staff  were  to  rest  at  Voiseilvitz.  The  house  of  the 
magistrate  had  been  chosen  as  the  only  dwelling-place  fit  for  these 
noble  guests.  The  magistrate,  elated  at  the  honor,  was  marching 
from  room  to  room,  scolding,  imploring  his  servants  to  have  every 
thing  clean  and  orderly. 

"Remember,"  said  he,  "a  king  is  to  inhabit  this  house  ;  he  will 
be  enraged  if  there  is  the  least  spot  or  stain  upon  the  floors  or  win- 
dows, for  of  course  he  wears  beautiful  garments,  covered  with  pearls 
and  diamonds,  and  embroidered  in  gold  and  silver.  How  fearful, 
then,  would  it  be  were  he  to  min  them  at  my  house  1  He  would  be 
infuriated,  for  money  is  scarce  now,  and  I  dare  say  as  hard  for  him 
to  get  as  for  us. " 

At  last,  thanks  to  threats  and  entreaties,  the  house  was  in  readi- 
ness for  the  king.  The  front  room  was  beautifully  clean,  and  white 
blinds  were  at  the  windows.  The  deal  table  was  covered  with  a 
snow-white  damask  cloth.  Beside  a  window  in  which  were  placed 
some  bright  plants,  an  old  leathern  anii-chair  was  standing,  which 
the  magistrate  intended  for  a  throne.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
some  portraits  of  the  royal  family  of  Prussia.  Around  a  wretched 
engraving  of  Frederick  a  wreath  of  immortelles  and  forget-me-nots 
was  woven.  In  a  comer  stood  a  large  bed  witli  clean  white  curtains 
in  readiness  for  the  king.  When  every  thing  was  arranged,  with  a 
last  proud  look  at  his  handsome  dwelling,  the  magistrate  hurried  to 
the  front  door,  waiting  anxiously  for  his  guest.  His  heart  beat 
high  with  expectation — his  whole  being  was  in  commotion — he  was 
to  see  a  king  for  the  first  time,  and  he  asked  himself  how  this  king 
would  look.  "  How  glorious  his  eyes  must  be !  I  think  he  must 
radiate  like  the  sun.  It  must  almost  blind  the  eyes  to  dwell  upon 
his  splendor. " 

Lost  in  these  thoughts,  he  did  not  observe  a  cavalcade  consisting 
of  three  ridei-s  passing  through  the  street.  Tlie  foremost  one  was 
enveloped  in  an  old  faded  blue  mantle,  his  large  three-cornered  hat 
hung  far  over  his  brow,  shading  his  eyes  and  his  thin,  pale  counte- 


THE  KING  AND  THE  VILLAGE  MAGISTRATE.        447 

nance.  His  heavy  army  boots  were  in  need  both  of  brushing  and 
mending.  His  two  companions  formed  an  agreeable  contrast  to 
him.  They  wore  the  rich,  glittering  uniforms  of  Prussian  staff  offi- 
cers. All  about  them  was  neat  and  elegant,  and  pleased  the  magis- 
trate right  well.  The  cavalcade  now  stopped  at  his  house,  and,  to 
the  amazement  of  the  villagers,  the  two  spruce  young  officers  sprang 
to  the  ground  -and  hastened  to  assist  the  man  in  the  blue  mantle  to 
alight  from  his  horse.  But  he  waved  them  aside,  and  springing 
lightly  from  the  saddle,  advanced  to  the  house  door.  The  magistrate 
blocked  up  the  way,  and  looking  haughtily  at  the  stranger,  said  : 

"  You  undoubtedly  belong  to  the  servants  of  the  king,  and  think, 
therefore,  to  enter  my  house.  But  that  cannot  be.  The  king  alone 
will  dwell  with  me.  If  you  are  what  I  suppose  you  to  be,  you  must 
go  next  door.     My  neighbor  may  have  quai-ters  for  you." 

The  stranger  smiled.  Fixing  his  large,  brilliant  eyes  sternly 
upon  the  magistrate,  he  caused  him  to  draw  back  almost  in  terror, 
feeling  as  if  the  sun  had  really  blinded  him. 

"I  am  not  one  of  the  king's  servants,"  said  the  stranger,  gayly, 
"  but  I  am  invited  to  dine  with  him. " 

"Then  it  is  all  right,"  said  the  magistrate,  "you  can  enter.  '  But 
you  must  first  go  into  that  little  side-room  and  brush  your  shoes  be- 
fore the  king  sees  you,  for  he  would  surely  be  enraged  to  find  you 
in  dusty  boots. " 

The  king  laughed  gayly,  and  entered  the  house.  "  I  will  go  to 
the  king's  chamber  at  once.  I  think  he  will  forgive  my  shoes." 
He  beckoned  to  the  two  officers  and  entered  his  room,  the  door  of 
which  he  left  open. 

The  magistrate  took  no  more  notice  of  him,  but  remained  out- 
side, looking  eagerly  for  the  king. 

Frederick  still  did  not  come  to  illuminate  the  street  with  his 
splendor.  In  his  stead  came  generals  and  officers,  with  gold  epaulets 
and  bright  stars  sparkling  on  their  coats,  and  entered  the  king's 
chamber,  without  a  word  to  the  magistrate. 

"  They  are  all  waiting  for  the  king, "  murmured  he,  "  but  I  shall 
see  him  first.  How  splendid  and  magnificent  are  all  these  officers  ! 
How  grand,  how  glorious  then  must  the  king  be,  who  is  far  nobler 
than  they  1  He  does  not  come  ;  I  will  enter  and  pass  the  time  in 
looking  at  all  these  splendidly-dressed  soldiers. "  He  stepped  lightly 
to  the  door,  and  peered  in.  He  started  ;  a  low  cry  of  terror  escaped 
him,  as  he  looked  at  the  scene  before  him. 

The  generals — the  officers  dressed  in  the  gold  and  silver  embroi- 
dered uniforms — stood  around  the  room  with  bared  heads  ;  in  their 
midst  stood  the  stranger  witli  the  dusty  boots.  He  alone  had  his 
hat  951,    IJe  ^Jope  bore  neitiier  epaulets  nor  gt?ire :  h?  w?i§  c\^  in 


448        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

simple  uuiform,  without  a  single  ornament,  and  still,  wonderful  to 
say,  it  now  seemed  to  the  magistrate  that  he  was  more  noble,  more 
splendid-looking  than  all  the  others.  He  was  the  smallest  amongst 
them,  but  seemed  much  taller.  They  stood  with  bowed  heads  before 
him ;  he  alone  was  raised  proudly  to  his  full  height.  Tliere  was 
something  grand  and  glorious  in  his  countenance ;  and  when  his 
large,  luminous  eyes  fell  upon  the  magistrate,  he  endeavored  in  vain 
to  slip  away — he  was  rooted  to  the  spot  as  if  by  magnetism. 

"  Will  you  not  stay  with  us  until  the  king  comes?"  said  Frederick, 
laughing. 

The  magistrate  answered  the  smile  with  a  broad  grin.  "I  see, 
sir, "  said  he, "  that  you  are  laughing  at  me.  You  know  that  you 
yourself  are  the  king. " 

Frederick  nodded  an  assent,  and  then  turned  to  Prince  Anlialt 
von  Dessau. 

"  You  see,  sir,  how  precarious  a  thing  is  the  glory  and  magnifi- 
cence of  a  king.  Tliis  man  took  me  for  a  servant ;  his  dull  eyes 
could  not  i)erceive  my  innate  glory. " 

"  Your  majesty  justly  calls  this  man's  eyes  dull, "  said  the  prince, 
laughing. 

Frederick  looked  at  him  kindly,  and  then  began  a  low,  earnest 
conversation  with  his  generals,  who  listened  attentively  to  his 
every  word. 

The  magistrate  still  stood  at  the  door.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
had  never  seen  any  thing  so  splendid -looking  as  this  man  with  the 
muddy  boots,  the  simple  coat,  and  torn,  unwieldy  hat,  whose  coun- 
tenance beamed  with  beauty,  whose  eyes  glittered  like  stars. 

"That,  then,  is  really  the  king?"  said  he  to  one  of  the  royal  ser- 
vants— "  the  King  of  Prussia,  who  for  five  years  has  been  fighting 
with  the  empress  for  us?" 

"Yes,  it  is  him." 

"  From  to-day  on  I  am  a  Prussian  at  heart, "  continued  the  mag- 
istrate ;  "  3'es,  and  a  good  and  true  one.  The  King  of  Prussia  dresses 
badly,  that  is  true,  but  I  suppose  his  object  is  to  lighten  the  taxes. " 
Passing  his  coat-sleeve  across  his  misty  eyes,  he  hastened  to  the 
kitchen  to  investigate  dinner. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAaE. 

Some  days  had  passed  since  the  king  entered  Voiseilvitz.  He 
dwelt  in  the  house  of  the  magistrate,  and  the  generals  were  quartered 
ID  the  huts  of  the  village.      The  regiments  were  in  the  neighboring 


THE  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE.        449 

hamlets.  The  kiog  lived  quietly  in  his  house,  wholly  given  up  to 
,  anxiety  and  discontent.  He  ate  alone  in  his  room,  spoke  to  no  one, 
or  if  he  did,  said  only  a  few  grave  words.  All  jesting  was  vanished 
from  his  lips  ;  he  was  never  seen  to  smile,  never  heard  to  play  the 
flute.  The  grief  which  oppressed  his  heart  was  too  profound  to  be 
confided  to  the  soft  and  melting  tones  of  his  flute.  Even  that  cher- 
ished companion  could  now  give  him  no  consolation.  Fearful,  hor 
rible  intelligence  had  followed  him  from  the  encampment  at  Strehlen. 
It  had  poisoned  these  days  of  long-denied  and  necessary  rest,  and 
shrouded  the  gloomy  future  with  yet  darker  presentiments  of  evil. 

Schweidnitz,  the  strong  fortress,  the  key  of  Silesia,  which  had  been 
so  long  and  with  such  mighty  effort  defended,  had  fallen ! — had 
yielded  to  the  Austrians — and  Frederick  had  thus  lost  the  most  im- 
portant acquisition  of  the  last  year,  and  thus  his  possession  of  Silesia 
was  again  made  doubtful.  He  looked  sadly  back  upon  all  the  pre- 
cious blood  which  had  been  shed  to  no  purpose — upon  all  the  great 
and  hardly- won  battles,  won  in  vain.  He  looked  forward  with  an 
aching  heart  to  the  years  of  blood  and  battle  which  must  follow. 
Frederick  longed  for  rest  and  peace — he  was  weaiy  of  bloodshed  and 
of  war.  Like  an  alluring,  radiant  picture  of  paradise,  the  image 
of  his  beloved  Sans-Souci  passed  from  time  to  time  before  his  soul. 
He  dreamed  of  his  quiet  library  and  his  beautiful  picture-gallery. 
And  yet  his  courage  was  unconquered — and  he  preferred  the  torture 
of  these  wretched  days — he  preferred  death  itself  to  the  unfavorable 
and  humiliating  peace  which  his  proud  enemies,  made  presumptu- 
ous by  their  last  successes,  dared  to  offer  him.  They  stood  opposed 
to  him  in  monstrous  superiority,  but  Frederick  remained  unshaken. 
With  a  smaller  army  and  fewer  allies  Alexander  demolished  Persia. 
"But  happily,"  he  said  to  himself,  "there  was  no  Alexander  to  lead 
his  enemies  to  victory." 

Frederick  did  not  despair,  and  yet  he  did  not  believe  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  triumph.  He  preferred  an  honorable  death  to  a  dishon- 
orable peace.  He  would  rather  fall  amidst  the  proud  ruins  of 
Prussia,  made  great  by  his  hand,  than  return  with  her  to  their  former 
petty  insignificance.  They  offered  him  peace,  but  a  peace  whicli 
compelled  him  to  return  the  lands  he  had  conquered,  and  to  pay  to 
his  victorious  enemies  the  costs  of  the  war. 

The  king  did  not  regard  these  mortifying  propositions  as  worthy 
of  consideration,  and  he  commanded  his  ambassador,  whom  he  had 
sent  to  Augsburg  to  treat  with  the  enemy,  to  return  immediately. 
"It  is  true,"  he  said  to  his  confidant,  Le  Catt,  "all  Europe  is  com- 
bined against  me — all  the  great  powers  have  resolved  upon  my  de- 
struction. And  England,  the  only  friend  I  did  possess  in  Europe, 
1)^9  now  abandoned  m©, " 


450        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  But  one  has  remained  faithful. " 

"'Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he  '  Among  the  innumer- 
able false,  immoved,  unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified,  that  is  my 
sword.  If  the  exalted  empresses  are  not  my  friends,  the  greater 
honor  to  my  good  sword  which  has  never  failed  me,  and  which  shall 
go  down  with  me  into  the  dark  grave.  If  in  Europe  I  have  neither 
friends  nor  allies,  I  may  find  both  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  Asia 
may  send  me  the  troops  which  Europe  denies.  If  Russia  is  my 
enemy,  who  knows  but  for  this  reason  Turkey  may  become  my  ally? 
And  who  knows  but  an  alliance  with  the  so-called  unbelievers  would 
be  of  more  value  to  Prussia  than  a  league  with  the  so-called  believ- 
ing Russians?  They  call  themselves  Christians,  but  their  weapons 
are  lies,  intrigues,  deceit,  and  treachery.  The  Moslem,  however,  is 
an  honorable  man  and  a  brave  soldier.  If  he  calls  his  God  Allah, 
and  his  Christ  Mohammed,  God  may  call  him  to  account.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  What  has  faith  to  do  with  the  kings  of  this 
world?  Besides,  I  believe  the  Turks  and  Tartars  are  better  Chris- 
tians than  the  Russians. " 

"Your  majesty  is  really,  then,  thinking  of  an  alliance  with  the 
Turks  and  Tartars?"  said  Le  Catt. 

"I  am  thinking  of  it  so  earnestly,"  said  the  king,  eagerly,  "that 
day  and  night  I  think  of  nothing  else.  I  have  spared  no  cost,  no 
gold,  no  labor,  to  bring  it  about.  Once  I  had  almost  succeeded, 
and  the  Sublime  Porte  was  inclined  to  this  league  ;  and  my  ambas- 
sador, Rexin,  was,  with  the  consent  of  the  Grand  Vizier  Mustapha, 
and  indeed  by  his  advice,  disguised  and  sent  secretly  to  Constanti- 
nople. The  negotiations  were  almost  completed,  when  the  Russian 
and  French  ambassadors  discovered  ray  plans,  and  by  bribery,  lies, 
and  intrigues  of  every  base  sort,  succeeded  in  interfering.  Mustapha 
broke  his  promise,  and  his  only  answer  to  me  was — 'that  the  Sublime 
Porte  must  wait  for  happier  and  more  propitious  days  to  confirm 
her  friendship  and  good  understanding  with  the  King  of  Prussia. ' 
This  was  the  will  of  God  the  Almighty.  This  propitious  year  has 
been  a  long  time  coming,  but  I  hope  it  is  now  at  hand,  and  this 
longed-for  alliance  will  at  length  be  concluded.  Tlie  last  dispatches 
from  my  ambassador  in  Constantinople  seem  favorable.  The  wise 
and  energetic  Grand  Vizier  Raghile,  the  first  self-reliant  and  enter- 
prising Turkish  statesman,  has  promised  Rexin  to  bring  this  matter 
before  the  sultan,  and  I  am  daily  expecting  a  courier  who  will  bring 
me  a  decisive  and  perhaps  favorable  answer  from  Tartary. "  * 

Le  Catt  gazed  with  admiration  ujwn  the  noble,  excited  counte- 
nance of  the  king.  "  Oh,  sire, "  said  he,  deeply  moved,  "  pardon, 
that  in  the  fulness  of  my  heart,  overcome  with  joy  and  rapture,  I 
•  Sl^Din«r,  "  Biatory  of  the  Porte,"  T9I.  Tjil.,  p.  19Q, 


THE  PROPOSAL  OP  MARRIAGE.        451 

dare  for  once  to  give  expression  in  words  to  my  love  and  my  admi- 
ration. It  is  a  glorious  spectacle  to  see  the  proud  oak  in  the  midst 
of  the  wild  temjjest  firm  and  unmoved,  not  even  bowing  its  proud 
head  to  the  raging  elements,  offering  a  bold  but  calm  defiance.  But 
it  is  a  still  more  exalted  sjiectacle  to  see  a  man  with  a  brave  heart 
and  flashing  eye  defy  disaster  and  death  ;  alone,  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  strength,  meeting  Fate  as  an  adversary  and  gazing 
upon  it  eye  to  eye  unterrified.  Misfortune  is  like  the  lion  of  the 
desert.  If  a  man  with  steady  eye  and  firm  step  advances  to  meet 
him,  he  ceases  to  roar  and  lies  down  humbly  at  his  feet ;  he  recog- 
nizes and  quails  before  man  made  in  the  likeness  of  God.  You,  my 
king,  now  offer  this  spectacle  to  the  astonished  world.  Can  you 
wonder  that  I,  who  am  ever  near  you,  are  filled  with  devotion  and 
adoration,  and  must  at  last  give  utterance  to  my  emotion?  I  have 
seen  your  majesty  on  the  bloody  battle-field,  and  in  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  victory,  but  never  have  I  seen  the  laurels  which  crown 
your  brow  so  radiant  as  in  these  days  of  your  misfortune  and  defeat. 
Never  was  the  King  of  Prussia  so  great  a  hero,  so  glorious  a  con- 
queror, as  during  these  last  weeks  of  destitution  and  gloom.  You 
have  hungered  with  the  hungry,  you  have  frozen  with  the  freezing ; 
you  have  passed  the  long,  weary  nights  upon  your  cannon  or  upon 
the  hard,  cold  earth.  You  have  divided  your  last  drop  of  wine  with 
the  poor  soldiers.  You  did  this,  sire ;  I  was  in  your  tent  and  wit- 
nessed it — I  alone.  You  sat  at  your  dinner — a  piece  of  bread  and 
one  glass  of  Hungarian  wine,  the  last  in  your  possession.  An  officer 
entered  with  his  report.  You  asked  him  if  he  had  eaten.  He  said 
yea,  but  his  pale,  thin  face  contradicted  his  words.  You,  sire, 
broke  off  the  half  of  your  bread,  you  drank  the  half  of  your  wine, 
then  gave  the  rest  to  the  officer,  saying  in  an  almost  apologetic  tone, 
'It  is  all  that  I  have. '  Sire,  on  that  day  I  did  what  since  my  youth 
I  have  not  done — I  wept  like  a  child,  and  my  eveiy  glance  upon 
your  noble  face  was  a  prayer. " 

"  Enthusiast, "  said  the  king,  giving  his  hand  to  Le  Catt  with  a 
kindly  smile,  "  is  the  world  so  cori-upt  that  so  natural  an  act  should 
excite  surprise,  and  appear  great  and  exalted  ?  Are  you  astonished 
at  that  which  is  simply  human  ?  But  look  !  There  is  a  courier ! 
He  stops  before  the  door  of  my  peasant-palace.  Quick,  quick  I  Le 
Catt ;  let  me  know  the  news  he  brings. " 

Le  Catt  hastened  off,  and  returned  at  once  with  the  dispatches. 

Frederick  took  them  with  impatient  haste,  and  while  he  read, 
his  grave  face  lightened,  and  a  happy,  hopeful  smile  played  once 
more  upon  his  lips.  "  Ah,  Le  Catt, "  said  he,  "  I  was  a  good  prophet, 
and  my  hopes  are  about  to  be  fulfilled.  Europe  is  against  me,  but 
Asia  is  my  ally.     The  barbarous  Russians  are  my  enemies,  but  the 


462       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

honest  Turks  and  Tartars  are  my  friends.  This  dispatch  is  from  my 
ambassador  Rexin.  He  is  coming,  accompanied  by  an  ambassador 
of  Tartary,  and  may  be  here  in  a  few  hours. " 

"  Where  will  your  majesty  receive  him?"  said  Le  Catt. 

The  king  looked  around  smilingly  at  the  little  room,  with  the 
rude  walla  and  dirty  floor. 

"  I  will  receive  him  here !"  said  he ;  "  here,  in  my  royal  palace 
of  Voiseilvitz,  I  am  forced  to  believe  that  a  right  royal  king  would, 
by  his  presence,  transform  the  lowliest  hut  into  a  palace,  and  the 
most  ordinary  chair  into  a  throne.  The  eyes  of  the  ambassador 
may,  however,  be  as  dull  as  those  of  the  worthy  posses.sor  of  my 
present  palace.  It  may  be  that  he  will  not  recognize  me  as  the  Visi- 
ble representative  of  God — as  king  by  the  grace  of  God.  We  must 
therefore  come  to  liis  assistance,  and  show  ourselves  in  all  the  daz- 
zling glitter  of  royalty.  We  must  improvise  a  throne,  and,  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  that  leathern  arm-chair,  which  certainly  belonged  to  a 
grandfather,  is  well  suited  to  the  occasion.  It  will  be  a  worthy  rep- 
resentation of  my  throne,  which  was  my  grandfather's  throne ;  he 
erected  it,  and  I  inherited  it  from  him.  Shove  it,  then,  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  fasten  some  of  the  Russian  flags,  which  we 
took  at  Zoradorf,  on  the  wall  behind  it ;  spread  my  tent-carpet  on 
the  floor,  and  my  throne  saloon  is  ready.  Quick,  Le  Catt,  make 
your  preparations  ;  call  the  servants,  and  show  them  what  they  have 
to  do.  In  the  mean  time,  I  will  make  my  toilet ;  I  must  not  appear 
before  the  worthy  ambassador  in  such  imworthy  guise. "  The  king 
rang  hastily,  and  his  valet,  Deesen,  entered.  "Deesen, "  said  he, 
gayly,  "we  will  imagine  ourselves  to  be  again  in  Sans-Souci,  and 
about  to  hold  a  great  court.  I  must  do  then,  what  I  have  not  done 
for  a  long  time — make  grande  toilette.  I  will  wear  my  general's 
uniform,  and  adorn  myself  with  the  order  of  the  Black  Eagle.  I 
will  have  my  hair  frizzed,  and  screw  up  an  imposing  cue.  Well, 
Deesen,  why  do  you  gaze  at  me  so  wildly  ?" 

"Sire,  the  general's  coat  is  here,  but — " 

"Well,  but  what?"  cried  the  king,  impatiently. 

"But  the  breeches!  the  breeches!"  stammered  Deesen,  turning 
pale  ;  "  they  are  torn  ;  and  those  your  majesty  now  weai-s,  are  your 
last  and  only  ones. " 

"  Well,  then, "  said  the  king,  laughing,  "  I  will  continue  to  wear 
my  last  and  only  breeches ;  I  will  put  on  my  general's  coat,  voild 
taiit." 

"That  is  wholly  impossible,"  cried  Deesen,  wringing  his  hands. 
"  If  your  majesty  proposes  to  hold  a  great  court,  you  cannot  possibly 
wear  these  breeches !" 

"Why  not?  why  not?"  said  the  king,  fiercely. 


THE  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE.  453 

"Sire,"  murmured  Deesen,  "sire,  that  has  happened  to  them 
which  happened  to  your  majesty  at  Torgau. " 

"  That  is  to  say — "  said  the  king,  questioningly. 

"That  is  to  say,  they  are  wounded. " 

Frederick  looked  surprised,  and  following  the  glance  of  his  valet, 
he  found  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  knees. 

"ITou  are  right,  Deesen, "  said  he,  laughing ;  "  that  disaster  has 
befallen  my  breeches  which  befell  me  at  Torgau  :  they  are  wounded, 
and  need  a  surgeon. " 

"Your  majesty  must  therefore  graciously  postpone  your  great 
court  till  to-morrow.  Perhaps  I  may  find  a  tailor  in  one  of  the 
neighboring  villages ;  he  will  work  during  the  night,  and  early  to- 
morrow every  thing  will  be  in  order. " 

"It  must  be  done  to-day — done  immediately,"  cried  the  king. 
"  In  a  few  hours  the  injury  must  be  healed,  and  my  apparel  fully 
restored  to  health. " 

"  But,  sire, "  whispered  Deesen,  " how  can  that  be  possible?  Your 
majesty  has  but  one  pair,  and  you  must  take  them  oflf,  in  order  that 
they  may  be  mended. " 

"  Well,  I  will  take  them  off, "  said  the  king ;  "  go  and  seek  the 
tailor.  I  will  undress  and  go  to  bed  till  this  important  operation  is 
performed.     Go  at  once !" 

While  the  king  was  undressing,  he  heard  Deesen's  stentoriao 
voice,  calling  out  lustily  through  the  streets — "  A  tailor  I  a  tailor  I 
is  there  a  tailor  amongst  the  soldiers?" 

The  king  was  scarcely  covered  up  in  bed  before  Deesen  entered, 
with  a  joyous  face. 

"  Sire,  I  have  found  a  soldier  who  can  do  the  work  ;  he  is  not  a 
tailor,  but  he  swears  he  can  sew  and  patch,  and  he  undertakes  to 
dress  the  wounds. " 

"  And  yet,  it  is  said  that  a  higher  power  rules  the  world, "  mur- 
mured the  king,  when  he  was  again  alone  ;  "  accident — accident 
decides  all  questions.  If  there  had  been  no  tailor  amongst  the 
eoldiers,  the  King  of  Prussia  could  not  have  received  the  ambassador 
of  Tartary  to-day,  and  the  negotiations  might  have  been  broken  off. " 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Le  Catt  entered,  followed 
by  a  servant  with  the  Russian  flags  and  the  carpet.  When  he  saw 
the  king  in  bed,  he  started  back,  and  asked  anxiously  "  if  his  majesty 
had  been  taken  suddenly  unwell?" 

"  No, "  said  Frederick,  "  I  am  only  making  my  toilet. " 

"Your  toilet,  sire?" 

"Yes,  Le  Catt,  did  you  see  a  soldier  9^t  the  door?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  What  was  he  doing  ?" 


454       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  He  seemed  to  be  sewing. " 

"He  is  sewing,  and  he  is  to- day  my  first  gentleman  of  the  bed- 
chamber ;  he  is  dressing  me.  Ah !  in  the  presence  of  this  humble 
patcher,  I  remember  that  a  wise  man  said,  'A  king  is  but  a  man  to 
his  valet  de  chambre. '  But  do  not  allow  my  presence  to  prevent 
you  from  building  my  throne ;  I  will  rest  here  comfortably,  and 
look  on." 

While  the  king  lay  in  bed  waiting,  the  soldier  who  had  under- 
taken the  job,  sat  on  a  bench  before  the  door.  He  bent  his  head 
zealously  over  his  work,  and  did  not  once  look  up  to  his  comrade 
who  stood  near  him,  leaning  against  a  large  oak,  gazing  rigidly  and 
unweariedly  at  him.  But  in  this  steady  and  indefatigable  glance, 
there  seemed  'to  be  a  strange,  attractive  power,  which  the  soldier 
could  not  resist.  He  raised  his  head  involuntarily  for  a  moment, 
and  the  sweet  and  noble  face  of  Charles  Henry  Buschman  was  seen. 

"  Fritz  Kober, "  said  he,  "  why  do  you  gaze  at  me  so,  and  why 
do  you  follow  me?" 

"  Because  I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  be  where  you  are  !"  said 
Fritz  Kober,  quietly.  "When  I  heard  Deesen  call  for  a  tailor,  and 
you  answered,  'Here  !  here  !'  I  stepped  out  of  my  tent  and  followed 
you  ;  nothing  more  !  But  you  would  also  know  why  I  look  at  you  ? 
Well,  while  it  pleases  me  to  see  you  sewing,  it  brings  sti'ange  and 
pleasant  thoughts  to  my  mind. " 

"  What  sort  of  strange  and  pleasant  thoughts,  Fritz V"  said  Charles 
Henry,  bowing  down  again  earnestly  over  his  work. 

"  I  thought, "  said  Fritz  Kober,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  that  if 
ever  I  should  take  a  wife,  she  must  look  exactly  as  you  do,  Charles 
Henry ;  she  must  have  the  same  neat  little  hands,  and  be  expert 
with  the  needle  as  you  are.  Then  I  thought  further,  that  in  the 
whole  world  there  was  no  man  so  good  and  brave,  so  gentle  and  in- 
telligent as  you.  Then  I  considered  what  would  become  of  me 
when  the  war  was  at  an  end,  and  you  should  desert  me  and  go  back 
to  your  village.  Then  I  resolved  to  follow  you  through  the  whole 
world,  and  not  to  cease  my  prayers  and  entreaties  till  you  promised 
to  come  into  my  hut,  and  take  all  that  was  mine — under  the  condi- 
tion that  you  would  keep  me  always  with  you — at  least  as  your 
servant — and  never  spurn  me  or  cast  me  off.  Then,  I  thought 
further,  that  if  you  said  no — if  you  refused  to  come  into  my  house, 
I  would  wander  far  away  in  despair,  and,  in  the  anguish  of  my 
heart  I  would  become  a  bad  and  contemptible  man.  Without  you, 
Charles  Henry,  there  is  no  joy  or  peace  in  this  world  for  me ;  you 
are  my  good  angel  I  Charles  Henry  Buschman,  do  you  wish  me  to 
be  a  dissolute  drunkard?" 

"How  can  I  wish  that,  Fritz  Kober?"  whispered  Charles  Henry 


THE  PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE.  455 

"  But  you  could  never  be  a  bad  man  ;  you  have  the  best  and  noblest 
heart  in  the  vporld  !  No  man  dare  injure  or  abuse  you  !  You  give 
to  those  who  ask  of  you,  you  help  those  who  suffer,  and  you  stand 
by  those  who  are  in  difficulty  !  Then  you  are  a  complete,  true  man, 
and  know  how  to  maintain  your  own  dignity  on  every  occasion. 
All  who  approach  you  are  compelled  to  respect  you,  and  no  one  will 
ever  dare  to  cast  a  reproach  on  Fritz  Kober.  You  are,  at  the  same 
time,  a  hero,  a  good  man,  and  an  innocent  child,  and  my  heart 
rejoices  in  you. " 

"  What  is  good  in  me,  I  owe  to  you, "  said  Fritz  Kober.  "  Before 
I  knew  you,  I  was  a  simple  blockhead,  and  lived  on  stupidly  from 
day  to  day,  thinking  of  nothing  Since  I  knew  you,  I  have  learned 
to  open  my  eyes,  and  to  reflect.  But  all  this  will  be  changed  if  you 
desert  me,  Charles  Henry,  and  I  see  that  you  will  do  so  ;  yes,  you 
will  abandon  me.  For  three  weeks  past  you  have  taken  no  notice 
of  me.  You  would  not  go  into  my  tent  with  me  at  Bunzelwitz,  but 
camped  out  alone.  Here,  in  the  village,  you  would  not  come  into 
my  hut,  but  quartered  with  an  old  peasant  woman.  So  I  followed 
you  to-day,  to  ask  you,  once  for  all,  if  you  have  the  heart  to  leave 
me — to  spurn  me  from  you?  Look  at  me,  Charles  Henry  !  look  at 
me  and  tell  me  if  you  will  make  a  pitiful  and  unhappy  man  of  me?" 

Charles  Henry  looked  up  from  his  work,  and  gazed  at  the  pale, 
agitated  face  of  his  comrade  ;  and  as  he  did  so,  tears  gushed  from 
his  eyes. 

"  God  forbid,  Fritz  Kober,  that  I  should  make  you  unhappy ! 
I  would  rather  shed  my  heart's  blood  to  make  you  happy." 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!"  cried  Fritz  Kober.  "If  this  is  so,  listen  to 
me  and  answer  me,  Charles  Henry  Buschman,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

A  glowing  blush  suffused  Charles  Henry's  face  ;  he  bowed  down 
over  his  work  and  sewed  on  in  monstrous  haste. 

Fritz  Kober  came  nearer  and  bowed  so  low  that  he  was  almost 
kneeling. 

"Charles  Henry  Buschman,  will  you  be  my  wife?" 

Charles  Henry  did  not  answer ;  tears  and  sobs  choked  his  voice, 
and  trembling  with  emotion  he  laid  his  head  on  Fritz  Kober's 
shoulder. 

"Does  that  mean  yes?"  said  Fritz,  breathlessly. 

"  Yes, "  whispered  she,  softly. 

And  now  Fritz  uttered  a  wild  shout,  and  threw  his  arms  around 
the  soldier's  neck  and  kissed  him  heartily. 

"God  be  thanked  that  it  is  over,"  said  he;  "God  be  thanked 
that  I  did  not  deceive  myself — that  you  are  truly  a  girl.  When  you 
were  last  sick,  and  the  surgeon  bled  you,  I  was  suspicious.  I  said 
to  myself,  '  That  is  not  the  arm  of  a  man. '    I  went  out,  but  in  the 


456       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

evening  you  were  praying,  and  you  did  not  know  that  I  was  in  the 
tent,  and  you  said,  'You  dear  parents  in  heaven,  pity  your  poor 
daughter. '  I  could  have  shouted  with  rapture  and  delight,  but  I 
held  my  peace.  I  wished  to  wait  and  see  if  you  would  be  good  to 
me." 

"But  the  expression  of  your  eyes  was  so  changed,"  whispered 
Charles  Henry  ;  "  I  was  obliged  to  turn  away  Avhen  their  glance  fell 
upon  me.  I  felt  that  my  secret  was  discovered,  and  therefore  I 
avoided  being  with  you. "  * 

"  Officer  Buschman, "  cried  Deesen,  in  a  commanding  voice  from 
the  house,  "  is  your  work  finished?" 

"  Immediately ;  I  have  but  a  few  stitches  to  do. "  cried  Charles 
Henry.     "  Be  silent, "  said  he  to  Fritz,  "  and  let  me  sew. " 

But  Fritz  was  not  silent ;  he  crouched  near  officer  Buschman, 
and  wliispered  many  and  strange  things  in  his  ear. 

Charles  Henry  sewed  on  zealously,  blushed  often,  and  replied  in 
low,  embarrassed  words. 

At  last  the  work  was  completed,  and  the  knees  of  the  great 
Frederick's  breeches  were  worthily  mended  with  divers  patches. 

"I  will  carry  them  myself  to  the  king,  as  I  have  a  favor  to  ask 
him, "  said  Fritz  Kober.  "  Come  with  me,  Charles  Henry ;  you 
must  hear  what  the  king  says. " 

He  took  Charles  Henry's  hand  and  advanced  to  the  door,  but 
Deesen  stood  there,  and  forbade  him  to  enter ;  he  ordered  Fritz  to 
give  him  tlie  breeches. 

"  No, "  said  Fritz  Kober,  resolutely,  "  we  have  a  request  to  make 
of  the  king,  and  he  once  gave  us  permission  to  come  directly  to  him 
when  we  had  a  favor  to  ask. " 

He  pushed  Deesen  aside  and  entered  the  room  with  Charles 
Henry. 

The  king  sat  in  his  bed  reading,  and  was  so  absorbed  that  he  did 
not  see  them  enter.  But  Fritz  stepped  up  boldly  to  the  bed  and  laid 
the  breeches  upon  the  chair. 

"Did  you  mend  them,  my  son?"  said  the  king. 

"  No,  your  majesty,  Charles  Buschman  mended  them,  but  I  came 
along  to  say  something  to  your  majesty.  You  remember,  no  doubt, 
what  you  said  when  we  returned  from  the  enemy's  camp  near 
Kilnersdorf,  after  the  battle,  when  Charles  Henry  related  so  beauti- 
fully all  that  we  had  seen  and  heard.  You  said,  'You  are  both  offi- 
cers from  this  day,  and  if  you  ever  need  my  assistance  call  upon  me 
freely.'" 

"  And  you  wish  to  do  so  now  ?"  said  the  king. 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  I  have  something  to  ask." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  KHaN  OP  TARTARY.     45? 

Fritz  Kober  drew  up  grandly  and  ceremoniously. 

"  I  ask  your  majesty  to  allow  me  to  marry  officer  Charles  Henry 
Buschman— to  many  him  to-day  !" 

"Marry  him!"  said  the  king,  amazed;  "is,  then,  officer  Busch- 
man— " 

"  A  woman,  your  majesty !"  interrupted  Fritz  Kober,  with  joy- 
ful impatience.  "He  is  a  woman  ;  his  name  is  Anna  Sophia  Detz- 
loff ,  from  Briinen. " 

Frederick's  sharp,  piercing  eye  rested  for  a  moment  questioningly 
upon  Charles  Henry's  face  ;  then  nodding  his  head  smilingly  several 
times,  he  said : 

"  Your  bride  is  a  spi-uce  lad  and  a  brave  officer,  and  knows  how 
to  blush  in  his  soldier's  uniform.  Officer  Charles  Henry  Buschman, 
will  you  be  the  wife  of  officer  Fritz  Kober?" 

"  I  will,  if  your  majesty  consents, "  whispered  Charles  Henry. 

"Well,  go  to  the  field -preacher,  and  be  married — I  give  my  con- 
sent.    And  now  go,  I  must  dress. 

"At  last,"  said  the  king  to  Le  Catt,  "fortune  will  be  again 
favorable  to  me.  Signs  and  wonders  are  taking  place,  as  they  did 
with  Charles  VII.  of  France.  When  he  was  in  the  most  dire  neces- 
sity, sun-ounded  by  his  enemies,  the  Lord  sent  the  Maid  of  Orleans 
to. save  him.  To  me,  also,  has  the  Lord  now  sent  a  Joan  d'Arc, 
a  maid  of  Briinen.     With  her  help  I  will  overcome  all  my  enemies. " 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  AMBASSADOB  AND  THE  KHAN  OF  TAKTARY. 

The  preparations  were  completed  ;  the  room  of  the  king  had  be- 
come, by  means  of  his  inventive  genius,  a  magnificenct  throne 
saloon.  The  great  arm-chair,  draped  with  rich  hangings,  looked 
almost  imposing ;  the  dirty  floor  was  concealed  by  a  costly  Turkish 
carpet.  The  door  which  led  into  the  entry  had  been  removed,  and 
the  opening  hung  with  banners.  The  entry  itself  had  been  changed 
by  means  of  carpets,  banners,  and  standards  into  a  tasteful  ante 
chamber. 

The  king  wore  his  general's  uniform,  and  the  chain  of  the  order 
of  the  Black  Eagle,  and  the  generals  and  staff  officers  stood  near 
him  in  their  glittering  dresses.  The  room  of  the  sheriff  had  indeed 
become  a  royal  apartment. 

And  now  an  imposing  train  approached  this  improvised  palace. 
First  appeared  two  riders,  whose  gold-embroidered  mantles  fell  be- 
low their  feet  and  concealed  the  well-shaped  bodies  of  the  small 
30 


458       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Arabian  horses  on  which  they  were  mounted,  only  displaying  their 
slender  necks,  with  their  flowing  manes  and  their  graceful  legs.  It 
was  evident  from  their  dark  complexions  and  flashing  eyes  that 
these  men  were  foreigners,  the  sons  of  the  South.  On  each  appeared 
the  diamond-headed  hilt  of  a  sword,  glittering  amid  the  folds  of 
the  costly  Turkish  shawls  which  encircled  their  slender  waists  ;  and 
at  the  side  of  each  hung  the  jewelled  sheath  of  a  Damascus  blade, 
which  was  held  in  the  right  hand,  and  presented  in  salutation. 
These  Turkish  warriors  were  followed  by  two  others,  scarcely  less 
richly  dressed,  and  behind  them  rode  four  men,  in  long  black  robes, 
with  eyes  closed,  each  bearing  in  his  right  hand  a  book  bound  in 
gold  and  velvet,  which  he  pressed  prayerfully  to  his  breast ;  a 
golden  pen  was  worn  in  their  girdles  in  place  of  a  weapon,  and  on 
the  fez  an  artistically  arranged  and  jewelled  peacock's  feather. 
Now  followed  two  other  riders ;  but  these  were  not  alike,  as  the 
others  had  been,  but  bore  the  most  remarkable  and  striking  con- 
trast to  one  another.  One  of  them  was  dressed  in  the  latest  French 
style ;  he  wore  a  blue,  silver-embroidered  velvet  coat,  with  small- 
clothes of  the  same  material,  which  met  his  white  silk  stockings  at 
the  knee,  and  were  fastened  by  a  band  with  a  diamond  clasp.  His 
shoes  were  also  ornamented  with  diamond  buckles  and  red  heels. 
He  wore  a  three-cornered  hat,  with  a  white  feather,  which  was 
placed  lightly  and  gracefully  upon  his  stiffly- curled,  well-powdered 
peruke.  Splendid  lace  covered  his  breast,  and  broad  lace  cuffs  fell 
over  his  white  gloved  hands.  It  was  a  perfect  ball  dress,  such  as 
was  worn  at  that  time  at  court  by  all  ambassadors  who  were  not 
military,  in  their  ceremonious  audiences  with  the  sovereign. 

Near  this  man,  dressed  so  gracefully  and  airily,  was  another 
cavalier  who  presented  a  great  contrast  to  him.  As  the  one  seemed 
dressed  for  a  summer  day,  so  the  other  appeared  prepared  for  the 
coldest  weather  ;  the  one  was  ready  for  the  ball-room,  and  the  other 
for  the  steppes  of  Siberia.  The  long,  thin  figure  of  the  latter  was 
concealed  by  a  fur  mantle,  made  of  the  skin  of  the  white  Lapland 
wolf,  and  lined  and  trimmed  with  a  darker  fur ;  around  his  waist 
was  bound  a  costly  gold-embroidered  shawl,  from  which  hung  a 
small  golden  cup,  and  a  richly  ornamented  razor.  At  his  side,  in- 
stead of  the  Turkish  sabre,  a  bag,  richly  worked  with  gold  and 
pearls,  was  suspended  by  golden  chains.  He  wore  a  fez,  on  the  front 
of  which  was  embroidered  a  small  golden  cup. 

Behind  these  two  men  came  a  troop  of  Turkish,  Tartar,  and 
European  servants,  all  in  livery ;  and  these  were  followed  by  a 
golden  chariot,  with  closely-drawn  blinds,  the  interior  being  im- 
penetrable to  the  most  curious  gaze.  Four  Tartars  in  long  white 
fur  mantles  rode  on  either  side  of  the  chariot,  with  drawn  sworda 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  KHAN  OF  TARTARY.     459 

The  chariot  was  followed  by  a  most  remarkable  crowd,  consisting 
of  Prussian  soldiers  from  every  regiment,  and  in  every  variety  of 
uniform,  of  peasants  and  their  wives,  of  old  men  and  children,  who 
were  all  struck  dumb  with  astonishment  and  admiration  at  the  sight 
of  this  strange  cavalcade  which  now  paused  before  the  king's  house. 

The  guards  saluted,  and  the  generals  and  staff  oflScers  advanced 
silently  and  bowed  profoundly  to  the  two  cavaliers,  who  were  such 
a  singular  contrast  to  one  another,  and  who  were  evidently  the  im- 
portant persons  of  the  cavalcade.  They  swung  themselves  lightly 
from  their  saddles,  and  returned  the  polite  greetings  of  the  generals  ; 
the  one  in  fluent  German,  the  other  in  equally  flowing  words,  but 
in  a  language  which  no  one  understood,  and  to  which  the  only 
answer  was  a  few  murmured  words,  a  smile,  and  hieroglyphic  hand- 
pressures. 

The  first  was  the  Baron  von  Rexin,  the  ambassador  of  the  king  to 
the  Grand  Sultan  and  the  Khan  of  Tartary,  who  had  been  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  become  the  minster  plenipotentiary  of  the  King  of  Prussia 
under  the  title  given  him  by  the  king  of  Baron  von  Rexin,  after 
having  been  the  servant  of  a  merchant  in  Breslau,  called  Hubsch. 
Tlie  second  was  the  great  and  noble  Mustapha  Aga,  the  ambassador 
of  Ej-imgirai,  the  Khan  of  Tartary.  He  was  the  favorite  and  con- 
fidant of  his  master,  and  was  sent  by  him  to  bear  his  greetings  and 
good  wishes  to  the  King  of  Prussia. 

As  soon  as  they  had  dismounted,  a  page  of  the  king  approached 
and  invited  them  to  enter  the  house,  where  the  king  was  waiting  to 
give  them  audience.  Baron  von  Rexin,  who  during  his  residence 
in  Turkey  had  learned  the  Turkish  language,  informed  the  ambassa- 
dor. A  smile  appeared  upon  Mustapha  Aga's  thin,  pale  face,  and 
he  turned  to  the  four  men  in  black  robes,  who  wore  the  golden  pens 
in  their  belts,  and  signed  to  them  to  follow  him,  and  then  taking  the 
arm  of  Baron  von  Rexin,  they  both  entered  the  house,  followed  by 
the  four  historians  and  interpreters  ;  the  generals  and  staff  officers 
of  the  king  then  arranging  themselves  on  either  side  of  the  throne, 
according  to  their  rank. 

The  king  received  the  embassy  sitting  upon  his  throne.  His  eye 
rested  smilingly  upon  Mustapha  Aga,  who  had  just  bent  to  the 
earth  before  his  throne,  and  as  he  arose  signed  to  one  of  the  four  in- 
terpreters to  approach.  The  interpreter  opened  the  costly  book, 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  handed  the  ambassador  a  large  doc- 
ument, covered  with  seals,  which  Mustapha  Aga  pressed  respect- 
fully to  his  lips,  and  then  kneeling,  presented  it  respectfully  to  the 
king. 

"  Mustapha  Aga,  the  ambassador  of  the  high  and  mighty  Khan 
pi  Tartary,  Krimgirai,  has  the  unutterable  honor  to  present  hi* 


460        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

credentials  to  the  King  of  Prussia,"  said  the  interpreter,   in  th» 
purest  and  most  fluent  French. 

The  king  broke  the  seal,  and  looked  hurriedly  over  the  document. 
"  Mustapha  Aga, "  he  said,  "  you  are  most  welcome  ;  and  I  greet  your 
master,  the  hero  Krimgirai,  whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend,  in 
you." 

After  the  interpreter  repeated  the  words  of  the  king,  Mustapha 
Aga  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  before  the  throne,  and  spoke 
rapidly  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Mustapha  Aga,  the  ambassador  of  the  great  Khan, "  said  the 
interpreter,  "  entreats  your  majesty  to  allow  him  to  show  you  the 
highest  proof  of  his  respect,  to  greet  you  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
alone,  in  great  and  beautiful  Tartary,  is  permitted  to  greet  the 
Khan." 

"I  grant  his  request,"  said  the  king. 

Mustapha  immediately  opened  the  pouch  which  htmg  at  his  side, 
and  took  from  it  a  crystal  flask,  from  which  he  poured  a  fluid  into 
the  cup,  and  a  delightful  perfume  immediately  pervaded  the  room. 
After  putting  a  small  quantity  of  white  powder  into  the  cup,  he 
proceeded  to  stir  the  contents  with  a  brush,  of  which  the  handle  was 
ornamented  with  three  diamonds  of  immense  size.  The  fluid  now 
arose  into  a  sparkling  milk-white  foam. 

The  king  looked  curiously  at  him  at  first,  and  then  turned  to  his 
ambassador.  "What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked  in  German,  proba- 
bly because  he  did  not  wish  to  be  imderstood  by  the  interpreter. 

"  Sire, "  said  Rexin,  smiling,  "  that  means  that  the  noble  Mustapha 
Aga  wishes  to  show  you  the  greatest  honor  in  his  power,  he  wishes 
to  shave  you. " 

"To  shave  me  I"  exclaimed  the  king.  "Who  and  what  is  the 
noble  Mustapha  Aga?" 

"  Sire,  he  is  one  of  the  greatest  dignitaries  of  Tartary ;  he  is  the 
barber  of  the  Khan !" 

The  king  could  scarcely  restrain  a  smile  at  this  explanation. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "it  is  not  a  bad  idea  to  make  a  diplomat  and  am- 
bassador of  a  barber.  The  gentlemen  of  the  diplomatic  corps  are 
given  to  shaving  in  politics  and  frequently  put  soap  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world. " 

Mustapha  Aga  now  approached  the  king  with  solemn  steps,  and 
bending  forward,  he  thrust  his  forefinger  into  the  foam  in  the  golden 
cup  and  passed  it  lightly  across  the  king's  chin.  He  then  drew 
forth  the  golden  razor  from  his  belt.  But  before  opening  it,  he 
raised  his  eyes  prayerfully  to  heaven,  and  spoke  a  few  solemn  words. 
"  Allah  is  the  light  of  heaven  and  earth  !  May  He  illuminate  me  in 
my  great  work !"  paid  t^Jj?  interpreter,  translating  Mustapha's  words 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  iE^HAN  OF  TAftTAHY.    461 

Then  the  ambassador  began  his  dignified  work ;  drawing  the 
blade  of  his  knife  across  the  chin  of  the  king  with  a  rapid  movement. 

The  king  and  his  generals  and  attendants,  were  scarcely  able  to 
retain  their  composure  during  this  performance. 

When  Mustapha  had  finished ,  he  signed  to  one  of  the  interpreters 
to  approach,  and  as  he  kneeled  before  him  he  wiped  the  foam  from 
his  razor  on  the  back  of  his  uplifted  hand.  Then  thrusting  it  in  his 
belt,  he  bowed  deeply  and  solemnly  to  the  king. 

"  May  Allah  keep  the  heart  of  this  king  as  pure  as  his  chin  now  is !" 
he  said.  "  May  the  knife  which  Allah  employs  to  prune  away  the 
faults  of  this  king,  pass  over  him  as  gently  and  painlessly  as  the 
knife  of  your  unworthy  servant  has  done  !  Mighty  king  and  lord, 
the  all-powerful  Khan  Krimgirai,  the  lion  of  the  desert,  the  dread 
of  his  enemies,  sends  me  to  you  and  offers  you  his  aid  and  friend- 
ship. The  renown  of  your  deeds  has  reached  his  eai-s,  and  he  is  lost 
in  astonishment  that  a  prince,  of  whose  kingdom  and  existence  he 
was  in  ignorance,  should  so  long  successfully  resist  the  great  Ger- 
man sultan,  whose  power  we  know,  without  fearing.  The  eagle  eye 
of  my  master  now  sees  clearly  that  he  who  was  so  insignificant  is 
now  great  enough  to  overshadow  the  land  of  the  powerful  German 
sultan,  and  to  make  the  proud  and  unbending  czarina  of  the  north 
tremble.  He  sends  me  to  report  to  you  his  profound  admiration  ; 
but  first,  will  you  allow  me,  O  eagle  king  of  the  north !  to  present 
the  gifts  which  he  offers  you?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  receive  these  gifts,"  said  the  king,  smil- 
ing, "  as  they  are  a  proof  of  the  friendship  of  the  great  Khan.  " 

Mustapha  Aga  made  a  signal  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  and 
spoke  a  few  words  aloud.  Immediately  there  appeared  the  two  men 
who  were  so  richly  dressed  in  Turkish  costumes,  and  had  been  at  the 
head  of  the  cavalcade.  They  stationed  themselves  on  either  side  of 
the  entrance,  and  were  followed  by  the  lower  officers  and  servants 
attached  to  the  embassy,  who  entered,  bearing  baskets  delicately 
woven  and  lined  with  rich  stuffs. 

Mustapha  signed  to  the  first  two  to  approach  him,  and  then,  be- 
fore opening  the  basket,  he  turned  once  more  to  the  king. 

"  Sire, "  said  he,  "  before  a  Tartar  gives  a  promise  of  love  and 
friendship  to  any  one,  he  invitee  him  to  his  house,  and  begs  him  to 
eat  of  his  bread  and  drink  of  his  wine.  -  Sire,  my  great  and  respected 
master  makes  use  of  his  unworthy  servant  to  entreat  your  majesty 
to  descend  from  your  throne  and  to  enter  his  house,  where  he  is 
present  in  spirit,  and  bids  the  eagle  king  of  the  north  welcome." 

"  I  should  be  delighted  to  grant  this  request, "  returned  the  king, 
smiling,  "  were  the  distance  not  so  great  between  my  house  and  that 
of  the  Khan." 


462       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AKD  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Sire,  the  house  of  my  great  master  is  before  your  door, "  said 
Mustapha  Aga,  bowiog  deeply.  "  On  the  day  of  our  departure,  the 
Khan  walked  through  it  and  kissed  its  walls,  and  exclaimed :  '  Be 
greeted,  my  great  and  royal  brother,  you  eagle  of  the  north !  Be 
welcome,  you  hero-king,  the  hated  enemy  of  the  czarina,  Kiimgirai 
offers  you  his  heart,  and  would  be  your  friend  for  all  time. '  Sire, 
thus  spoke  my  lord  the  Khan  ;  the  air  in  his  house  is  still  vibrating 
with  the  words  he  uttered.  Will  your  majesty  condescend  to  leave 
your  throne  and  visit  my  great  master,  the  Klian  Krimgirai?" 

The  king  arose  instantly  and  said,  "I  am  well  pleased  to  do  so. 
Lead  me  to  the  palace  of  your  Khan. " 

Mustapha  Aga  signed  to  the  basket-carriers  and  to  the  other 
attendants  to  leave  the  room,  and  then  spoke  a  few  rapid  and  em- 
phatic words  to  the  interpreters,  who  followed  them.  Then  bowing 
to  the  ground  before  the  king,  he  turned  and  passed  out  of  the  house. 

Before  the  door  a  wonderful  spectacle  presented  itself  to  the  as- 
tonished view  of  the  king.  Immediately  opposite  the  house,  on  the 
open  square,  a  high  tent,  of  considerable  size,  appeared,  around 
which  was  a  wall  of  fur,  well  calculated  to  protect  it  from  the  cold 
air  and  rough  winds.  A  carpet  covered  tlie  way  from  the  door  of 
the  tent  to  the  king's  house,  and  from  within  the  tent  could  be  heard 
the  gentle  notes  of  a  peculiar  music. 

" Really, "  said  the  king  to  his  ambassador.  Von  Rexin,  "I  seem 
to  be  living  in  the  'Arabian  Nights. '  There  is  nothing  wanting  but 
the  beautiful  Scheherezade. " 

"  Sire,  perhaps  she  also  is  here, "  said  Von  Rexin ;  "  we  were 
accompanied  by  a  close  chariot,  guarded  by  four  of  the  khan's 
eunuchs. " 

The  king  laughed,  and  said,  "  We  will  see, "  and  he  rapidly  ap- 
proached the  hut.  As  he  reached  it,  the  door  flew  open,  and  Mus- 
tapha Aga  received  him  kneeling,  while  his  attendants  threw  them- 
selves to  the  ground,  touching  it  with  their  foreheads. 

The  king  entered  and  examined  with  great  curiosity  the  house  of 
the  Khan.  The  interior  of  this  immense  tent  was  hung  with  crim- 
son draperies,  amongst  which  arose  twenty  golden  pillars  which 
supported  the  tent.  At  the  top  of  these  was  an  immense  golden 
ring  from  which  the  crimson  draperies  hung,  and  above  this  ring 
were  twenty  golden  pillars  which,  uniting  in  the  centre  at  the  top, 
formed  the  dome  of  the  tent.  From  the  centre  hung  a  golden  vase, 
in  which  burned  the  rarest  incense.  The  floor  was  covered  by  a 
great  Turkish  carpet,  and  against  the  walls  stood  several  divans, 
such  as  are  generally  used  in  the  dwellings  of  the  wealthy  Turks. 
In  the  centre  of  the  tent,  just  under  the  suspended  vase,  stood  a  low, 
gilt  table,  decked  with  a  service  of  glittering  porphyry.     One  side 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  KHAN  OF  TARTARY.     463 

of  the  tent  was  separated  from  the  rest  by  heavy  curtains  of  a  costly 
material,  and  from  hence  came  the  sound  of  music,  which  now  arose 
in  loud,  triumphant  tones,  as  if  greeting  the  king. 

His  majesty  moved  rapidly  to  the  middle  of  the  tent,  while  his 
attendants  stood  against  the  walls,  and  Mustapha  Aga  and  his  inter- 
preter stood  near  the  king. 

Mustapha  then  took  a  sword  which  was  on  the  table,  and,  after 
kissing  it,  handed  it  to  the  king.  "Sire,"  he  said,  "the  great 
Krimgirai  first  offers  you  his  sword,  as  a  sign  of  his  love  and  good- 
will. He  begs  that  on  the  day  of  the  great  victory  which  you  and 
he  will  undoubtedly  gain  over  the  hated  czarina  of  the  north,  you 
will  wear  this  sword  at  your  side.  A  sword  like  this — tempered  in 
the  same  fire  and  ornamented  with  the  same  design — is  worn  by  the 
Khan.  When  these  two  swords  cut  the  air,  Russia  will  tremble  as 
if  shaken  by  an  earthquake. " 

The  king  received  the  sword  from  Mustapha  Aga,  and  looked  at 
it  attentively.  Then  pointing  to  the  golden  letters  which  ornamented 
the  blade,  he  asked  the  significance  of  the  motto. 

"  Sire, "  replied  Mustapha,  solemnly,  "  it  is  the  battle-cry  of  the 
Tartar  :  'Death  is  preferable  to  defeat. '" 

"  I  accept  the  sword  with  great  pleasure, "  said  the  king.  "  This 
motto  embodies  in  a  few  words  the  history  of  a  war,  and  discloses 
more  of  its  barbarity,  than  many  learned  and  pious  expositions  could 
do.     I  thank  the  Khan  for  his  beautiful  gift. " 

"  The  Khan  hears  your  words,  sire,  for  his  spirit  is  among  us. " 

Mustapha,  after  begging  the  king  to  seat  himself  upon  the  large 
divan,  drew  aside  the  opening  of  the  tent,  when  the  servants  with 
the  covered  baskets  immediately  appeared,  and  placed  themselves 
in  a  double  row  around  the  tent.  Mustapha  then  took  the  basket 
from  the  first  couple,  and  throwing  back  the  cover,  said :  "  Sire, 
will  you  condescend  to  eat  of  the  bread  and  drink  of  the  favorite 
beverage  of  the  Khan,  that  the  ties  of  your  friendship  may  be 
strengthened?  Tlie  Khan  sends  you  a  costly  ham — a  proof  of  his 
unselfish  friendship.  He  had  his  favorite  horse  killed,  the  one  that 
he  has  ridden  for  years,  that  he  might  offer  you  a  ham  from  this 
noble  animal. " 

As  the  interpreter  translated  these  words,  the  Prussian  generals 
and  officers  glanced  smiling  and  mockingly  at  one  another. 

The  king  alone  remained  grave,  and  turning  to  the  generals,  he 
said  in  German : 

"  Ah,  gentlemen !  how  happy  we  would  have  been,  had  any  one 
brought  us  this  meat  at  the  siege  of  Bunzelwitz,  and  how  ravenously 
we  would  have  eaten  it !" 

He  th^n  turoed  again  to  the  ambassador,  who,  taking  from  the 


464        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY- 

other  baskets  Carian  dates  and  almonds,  and  other  Eastern  dainties 
in  silver  dishes,  placed  them  before  the  king.  Mustapha  then  uttered 
arlond,  commanding  cry,  and  the  door  of  the  tent  was  again  opened, 
and  there  appeared  a  Tartar,  dressed  in  white  wolf-skin,  bearing  a 
golden  dish,  which  contained  a  steaming,  white  liquid.  He  took 
it,  and  kneeled  with  it  before  Frederick. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "my  master  begs  you  to  drink  with  him  of  his 
favorite  beverage.  He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  rim  of  this  dish  before 
sending  it  to  you,  and  if  you  will  now  do  the  same,  the  eagle  and 
liero  of  the  north  will  receive  the  brotherly  kiss  of  the  eagle  and 
liero  of  the  south. " 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  king,  in  a  low  voice,  of  Baron  von 
Rexin,  who  stood  near  the  divan. 

"Sire,  it  is  mare's  milk  !"  whispered  Rexin. 

The  king  shuddered,  and  almost  overturned  the  contents  of  the 
dish  which  he  had  just  received  from  the  hands  of  Mustapha  Aga ; 
but  quickly  overcoming  this  feeling,  he  raised  the  bowl  smilingly  to 
his  mouth.  After  placing  his  lips  upon  the  rim,  he  returned  the 
bowl  to  thS  ambassador. 

"I  have  received  the  kiss  of  my  friend.  May  our  friendship  be 
eternal !" 

"Allah  grant  this  prayer!"  cried  Mustapha.  "Sire,  Krimgirai 
dares,  as  this  beverage  is  such  a  favorite  with  all  Ttu-ks,  to  hope 
that  it  may  please  you ;  he  therefore  offers  you  the  animal  from 
which  it  was  procured."  He  then  pointed  to  the  opening  in  the 
tent,  where  now  appeared  a  noble  Arabian  horse,  wearing  a  costly 
saddle  and  bridle,  and  a  crimson  saddle-cloth  richly  worked  with 
pearls  and  precious  stones. 

Tlie  eyes  of  the  king  beamed  with  pleasure,  and  as  he  hurried 
through  the  tent  and  approached  the  hoi*se,  the  animal  seemed  to 
w  ish  to  greet  his  new  master,  for  it  neighed  loudly,  and  pawed  tlie 
sand  with  its  well-shaped  feet.  The  king  gently  stroked  its  slender, 
shining  neck  and  its  full,  fluttering  mane,  and  looked  in  the  great, 
flashing  eyes. 

"You  are  welcome,  my  bat  tie- horse !"  he  said;  "may  you  bear 
me  in  the  next  engagement  either  to  victory  or  death  !" 

He  then  returned  to  his  seat,  in  order  to  receive  the  remaining 
presents  of  the  Khan,  consisting  of  costly  weapons  and  furs. 

"And  now,  sire,  the  Khan  begs  that  you  will  repose  in  his  tent, 
and  listen  to  the  music  that  he  loves,  and  look  at  the  dances  which 
give  him  pleasure.  My  master  knows  that  the  great  King  of  Prussia 
loves  music  as  he  does,  and  that  it  gladdens  your  heart  as  it  does 
his  own.  When  he  goes  to  battle — which  is  but  going  to  victory — 
be  takes  with  him  his  raueicians  and  dancei-s,  who  must  perform 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  KHAN  OF  TARTARY.     465 

the  dance  of  triumph  before  him.  The  Khau  hopes  that  you  will 
permit  them  to  dance  before  you,  and  I  pray  that  your  majesty  will 
grant  this  request. " 

"  I  am  ready  to  behold  and  hear  all, "  said  the  king. 

Immediately,  at  a  sign  from  Mustapha,  the  curtain  which  con- 
cealed part  of  the  tent  was  withdrawn,  and  four  lovely  girls,  clothed 
in  light,  fluttering  apparel,  appeared  and  commenced  a  graceful, 
beautiful  dance,  to  the  music  of  the  mandoline.  When  they  had 
finished,  they  retired  to  the  curtain,  and  looked  with  great,  wonder- 
ing eyes  at  the  Prussian  warrior.  Then  appeared  from  behind  the 
curtain  four  young  men,  who  seated  themselves  opposite  the  girls. 
The  musicians  began  a  new  strain,  in  which  the  girls  and  young 
men  joined.  Then  two  of  the  girls  arose,  and  drawing  their  veils 
over  their  faces  so  that  only  their  eyes  were  visi  le,  they  danced 
lightly  and  swayingly  to  the  end  of  the  tent,  and  then  returned  to 
the  young  men,  who  now  commenced  the  love-songs,  with  downcast 
eyes,  not  daring  to  call  the  name  of  the  objects  of  their  tenderness, 
but  addressing  them  in  poetical  terms ;  and  then  they  sang  to  the 
same  air  the  battle-song  of  the  Tartars.  In  this  song,  the  battles  are 
not  only  pictured  forth,  but  you  hear  the  shrieks  of  the  warriors, 
the  battle-cry  of  the  Tartars,  and,  at  length,  when  the  battle  is  won, 
the  loud  shouts  of  rejoicing  from  the  women.  When  the  song  was 
ended,  the  singers  bowed  themselves  to  the  earth,  and  then  disap- 
peared behind  the  curtain. 

The  music  ceased,  and  the  king,  rising  from  the  divan,  and 
turning  to  Mustapha,  said  : 

"I  owe  to  the  Khan  a  most  delightful  morning,  and  I  will  take  a 
pleasant  remembrance  of  his  house  with  me. " 

"  Sire, "  said  Mustapha,  "  the  Khan  begs  you  to  accept  this  tent  as 
a  proof  of  his  friendship." 

The  king  bowed  smilingly,  and  as  he  left  the  tent,  told  Rexin  to 
ask  the  Tartar  ambassador  to  come  to  him  now  for  a  grave  conference. 

The  king  then  dismissed  his  generals  and  attendants,  and  entered 
his  house,  followed  by  Baron  von  Rexin  and  the  Turkish  ambassador 
and  his  intei-preters. 

"Now  we  will  speak  of  business!"  said  the  king.  "What  news 
do  you  bring  me  from  the  Khan  ?  What  answer  does  he  make  to 
my  proposition?" 

"  Sire,  he  is  willing  to  grant  all  that  your  majesty  desires,  and  to 
give  you  every  assistance  in  his  power,  provided  you  will  not  make 
peace  with  our  hated  enemy — with  Russia— ^but  will  continue  the  war 
unweariedly  and  unceasingly,  until  Russia  is  humbled  at  our  feet. " 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  king,  "  the  Khan  of  Tartary  cannot  hate  the 
Empress  of  Russia  inore  viijdictivel^  than  she  hat^s  we ;  be  need 


466        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

not  fear,  therefore,  an  alliance  between  me  and  Russia.  I  have 
myself  no  desire  to  form  a  friendship  with  those  rough  barbarians. " 

"If  the  Empress  of  Russia  hates  you,  she  hates  Krimgirai  equally. 
Russia  hates  every  thing  that  is  noble  and  true  ;  she  hates  enlighten- 
ment and  cultivation.  Russia  hates  Krimgirai,  because  he  has 
civilized  his  people ;  because  he  has  changed  his  rough  hordes  of 
men  into  a  mighty  army  of  brave  warriors  ;  because  he  governs  his 
kingdom  with  humanity,  and  is,  at  the  same  time,  a  father  to  his 
people  and  a  scourge  to  his  enemies.  Krimgirai  hates  Russia  as  he 
hates  every  thing  that  is  wicked,  and  vicious,  and  cruel ;  therefore 
he  is  willing  to  stand  by  your  side  against  Russia,  with  an  army  of 
six  thousand  men,  and,  if  you  wish  it,  to  invade  Russia." 

"  And  what  are  the  conditions  which  the  Khan  demands  for  this 
assistance?" 

"  He  wishes  you  to  pay  his  soldiers  as  you  pay  your  own. " 

"And  for  himself?" 

"For  himself,  he  begs  that  you  will  send  him  a  physician  who 
can  cure  him  of  a  painful  but  not  dangerous  disease.  Further,  he 
begs  for  your  confidence  and  friendship. " 

"Which  I  gladly  give  him!"  said  the  king,  gayly.  "But  tell 
me  one  other  thing.  Has  the  Khan  not  yet  become  reconciled  to 
the  Grand  Sultan  ?" 

"  Sire,  the  sultan  feels  that  he  cannot  spare  his  brave  Khan  ;  he 
made  an  overture,  which  Krimgirai  gladly  accepted.  One  week 
before  we  started  on  our  journey,  the  Khan  was  received  by  the 
sultan  in  his  seraglio.  The  heads  of  forty  rebels  were  displayed  as 
a  special  honor  in  front  of  the  seraglio,  and,  in  the  presence  of  the 
sultan  himself,  my  master  was  again  presented  with  belt  and  sword, 
and  again  reinstalled  as  Khan.  The  sultan  also  presented  him  with 
a  purse  containing  forty  thousand  ducats.  You  see,  sire,  that  the 
saltan  prizes  and  acknowledges  the  virtues  of  your  ally. " 

"And  how  do  we  stand  with  the  Porte?"  asked  the  king,  turning 
to  Baron  von  Rex  in. 

"  I  have  succeeded,  sire,  in  establishing  a  treaty  between  your 
majesty  and  the  Porte  !  I  shall  have  the  honor  to  lay  it  before  your 
majesty  for  your  signature. " 

The  king's  eyes  beamed  with  delight,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"At  length  I  have  attained  the  desired  goal,  and  in  spite  of  the 
whole  of  Europe.     I  have  my  allies  !" 

Then  tximing  once  more  to  Mustapha  Aga,  he  dismissed  him  for 
the  day,  and  gave  him  permission  to  occupy  the  magnificent  tent 
which  had  been  presented  to  him  by  the  Khan,  during  the  remain- 
der of  his  visit. 

>Iustapha  Aga  then  withdrew  with  his  interpreter,  leaving  th? 


THE  AMBASSADOR  AND  THE  KHAN  OP  TARTARY.     467 

king  alone  with  the  Baron  von  Rexin,  who  now  presented  to  him  the 
papers  which  it  was  necessary  he  should  sign,  to  establish  the  long- 
desired  alliance  with  Turkey.  This  treaty  assured  to  Prussia  all  the 
privileges  which  Turkey  accorded  to  the  other  European  powers  :  free 
navigation,  the  rights  of  ambassadors  and  consuls,  and  the  personal 
liberty  of  any  Prussian  subjects  who  might  have  been  seized  as  slaves. 

The  king  signed  the  treaty,  and  named  Baron  von  Rexin  his 
minister  plenipotentiary,  and  commanded  him  to  return  with  the 
ambassador  from  Tartary  and  present  the  signed  treaty  to  the  Grand 
Sultan. 

"Now  the  struggle  can  begin  anew,"  said  Frederick,  when  he 
was  once  more  alone.  "  I  will  recommence  with  the  new  year ;  I 
will  battle  as  I  have  already  done  ;  I  will  consider  nothing  but  my 
honor  and  the  glory  of  Prussia.  I  will  not  live  to  see  the  moment 
when  I  will  consent  to  a  disgraceful  peace.  No  representations,  no 
eloquence  shall  bring  me  to  acknowledge  my  own  shame.  I  will  be 
buried  under  the  ruins  of  my  native  land,  or  if  this  consolation  be 
denied  me  by  my  unfortunate  fate,  I  will  know  how  to  end  my  mis- 
fortunes. Honor  alone  has  led  my  footsteps,  and  I  will  follow  no 
other  guide.  I  sacrificed  my  youth  to  my  father,  my  manhood  to 
my  country,  and  I  have  surely  gained  the  right  to  dispose  of  my  old 
age.  There  are  people  who  are  docile  and  obedient  toward  fate.  I 
am  not  one  of  them.  Having  lived  for  othez-s,  I  dare  at  least  die 
for  myself,  careless  what  the  world  may  say.  Nothing  shall  force 
me  to  prefer  a  weak  old  age  to  death.  I  will  dare  all  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  my  plans  ;  they  failing,  I  will  die  an  honorable  death. 
But  no!  no!"  said  the  king,  smiling  after  a  short  pause.  "I  will 
not  indulge  in  such  sad  and  despairing  thoughts  on  the  day  which 
lias  shown  me  the  first  ray  of  sunlight  after  so  many  storms.  Per- 
haps the  year  sixty -two  will  be  more  fortunate  than  the  one  just 
passed.  I  stand  no  longer  alone  ;  I  have  my  friends  and  my  allies. 
Why  should  I  care  that  the  world  calls  them  imbelievers?  I  have 
seen  Christians  betray  and  murder  one  another.  Perhaps  unbe- 
lievers are  better  Christians  than  believers.  We  will  try  them,  at 
least.  When  all  deserted  me,  they  offered  me  the  hand  of  friend- 
ship. This  is  the  first  sunbeam  which  has  greeted  me.  Perhaps 
bright  days  may  now  follow  the  storms.     May  God  grant  it !"  * 

*  The  king  was  not  deceived.  The  Empress  Elizabeth  died  in  the  commencement 
of  the  year  1762.  Her  successor!  Peter  the  Third,  was  a  passionate  admirer  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  and  he  now  became  the  ally  of  Prussia.  The  Empress  Catha- 
rine approved  this  change,  and  remained  the  ally  of  Prussia.  France  now  withdrew 
from  the  contest ;  and  in  the  year  1763,  Austria,  finding  her  treasury  completely  ex- 
hausted, was  compelled  to  make  peace  with  Prussia.  Prussia  had  no  use  for  her 
new  ally  of  Tartary,  and  Krinisirai,  who  was  already  on  the  march,  returned  home 
with  his  army.— See  "  M6molres  du  Baron  de  Tott  sur  les  Tares et  les  Tartares." 


B  O  O  K    Y  I. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE    KING'S    RETURN. 

Berlin  was  glittering  in  festal  adornment !  This  was  a  great,  a 
joyous  day  ;  the  first  gleam  of  sunshine,  after  many  long  years  of 
sorrow,  suffering,  and  absolute  want.  For  the  last  seven  years  the 
king  had  been  absent  from  his  capital — to-day  he  would  return  to 
Berlin. 

After  seven  years  of  bloody  strife,  the  powers  at  Hubertsburg  had 
declared  peace.  No  nation  had  enlarged  its  boundaries  by  this  war. 
Not  one  of  the  cities  or  fortresses  of  the  King  of  I'russia  had  been 
taken  from  him,  and  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  his 
former  conquest.  There  had  been  no  successful  results  1  Losses 
only  were  to  be  calculated. 

During  these  seven  years,  Russia  had  lost  one  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  men,  the  French  two  hundred  thousand,  the  Prussians  a 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand,  the  English  and  confederate  Germans 
a  hundred  and  sixty  thousand,  and  the  Saxons  ninety  thousand — 
lastly,  the  Swedes  and  the  States  sixty  thousand.  Tliis  seven  years' 
war  cost  Europe  nearly  a  million  of  men.  Their  blood  fertilized  the 
German  soil,  and  their  bones  lay  mouldering  beneath  her  green 
sods. 

Throughout  all  Europe,  weeping  mothers,  wives,  and  children 
turned  their  sorrowful  faces  toward  the  land  which  had  robbed  them 
of  tlieir  dear  loved  ones ;  they  were  even  deprived  the  painfully 
sweet  consolation  of  weeping  over  these  lonely  and  neglected  graves. 

Losses  were  not  only  to  be  coimted  in  myriads  of  men,  whose 
blood  had  been  shed  in  vain,  but  imcoimted  millions  had  been  lav- 
ished upon  the  useless  strife. 

During  this  war,  the  debt  of  England  had  increased  to  seventy 
million  pounds  sterling ;  the  yearly  interest  on  the  debt  was  four 
and  a  half  million  crowns.  The  Austrians  calculated  their  debt  at 
five  hundred  million  guldens ;  France  at  two  thousand  million 
livres ;  Sweden  was  almost  bankrupt,  and  unfortunate  Saxony  had 
to  pay  to  Prussia  during  the  war  over  seven  million  crowns. 


THE  KING'S  RETUEN.  469 

In  the  strict  meaning  of  the  term,  Prussia  had  made  no  debt, 
but  she  was,  in  fact,  as  much  impoverished  as  her  adversaries.  The 
Prussian  money  which  was  circulated  during  the  war  was  worthless. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  all  those  who  carried  these  promissory- 
notes  shared  the  fate  of  the  rich  man  in  the  fairy  tale.  The  money 
collected  at  night  turned  to  ashes  before  morning.  This  was  the 
fatal  fruit  of  the  war  which  for  seven  years  had  scourged  Europe. 
Prussia,  however,  had  reason  to  be  satisfied  and  even  grateful. 
Although  bleeding  from  a  thousand  wounds,  exhausted  and  faint 
unto  death,  she  promised  a  speedy  recovery  ;  she  was  full  of  youth- 
ful power  and  energy — had  grown,  morally,  during  this  seven  years* 
struggle — had  become  great  under  the  pressure  of  hardship  and  self- 
denial,  and  now  ranked  with  the  most  powerful  nations  of 
Europe. 

To-day,  however,  suffering  and  destitution  were  forgotten  ;  only 
smiling,  joyous  faces  were  seen  in  Berlin.  The  whole  city  seemed 
to  be  invigorated  by  the  golden  rays  of  fortune ;  no  one  appeared 
to  suffer,  no  one  to  mourn  for  the  lost — and  yet  amongst  the  ninety - 
eight  thousand  inhabitants  of  Berlin,  over  thirty  thousand  received 
alms  weekly — so  that  a  third  of  the  population  were  objects  of 
charity.  To-day  no  one  thirsted,  no  one  was  hungry ;  all  hearts 
were  merry,  all  faces  glad  ! 

They  had  not  seen  their  great  King  Frederick  for  seven  years ; 
'  they  wovdd  look  upon  him  to-day.     The  royal  family  had  arrived 
from  Magdeburg. 

Every  one  hastened  to  the  streets  to  see  Frederick,  who  on  his 
departure  had  been  but  the  hero-king  of  Prussia,  but  who  now,  on 
his  return,  was  the  hero  of  all  Europe — whom  all  nations  greeted — 
whose  name  was  uttered  in  Tartary,  in  Africa,  with  wonder  and 
admiration — yes,  in  all  parts  of  the  civilized  and  uncivilized  world  I 

The  streets  were  filled  with  laughing  crowds  ;  all  pressed  toward 
the  Frankfort  gate,  where  the  king  was  to  enter.  The  largest  arch 
of  triumph  was  erected  over  this  gate,  and  all  other  streets  were 
decorated  somewhat  in  the  same  manner.  Every  eye  was  turned 
toward  this  street ;  all  were  awaiting  with  loudly -beating  hearts  the 
appearance  of  that  hero  whose  brow  was  decked  with  so  many  costly 
laurels.  No  heart  was  more  impatient,  no  one  gazed  so  eagerly  at 
the  Frankfort  gate  as  the  good  Marquis  d'Argens ;  he  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  burghers,  near  the  arch  of  triumph  ;  he  had  organized 
the  citizens  for  this  festal  reception ;  he  had  left  his  cherished 
retirement  for  love  of  his  royal  friend ;  to  welcome  him,  he  had 
ventured  into  the  cutting  wind  of  a  cold  March  morning.  For 
Frederick's  sake  he  had  mounted  a  horse,  a  deed  of  daring  he  had 
OPti  v^otyred  upon  for  maoj'  a  ;y'ear ;  in  bis  l|velj^  impatience,  he 


470        FREDEKICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

even  forgot  the  danger  of  being  run  away  with  or  dragged  in  the 
dust. 

The  marquis  knew  well  that  nothing  could  be  more  disagreeable 
to  the  king  than  this  public  reception,  but  his  heart  was  overflow- 
ing with  hope  and  happiness,  and  he  felt  the  necessity  of  shouting 
his  vivats  in  the  sunny  air.  In  the  eogtism  of  his  love,  he  forgot  to 
respect  the  preferences  of  the  king. 

Perhaps  Frederick  suspected  this  triumph  which  his  good  Ber- 
liners  had  prepared  for  him.  Perhaps  it  appeared  to  his  acute  sen- 
sibilities and  noble  heart  altogether  inappropriate  to  welcome  the 
returned  soldiers  with  wild  shouts  of  joy,  when  so  many  thousand 
loved  ones  were  lying  buried  on  the  bloody  battle-field.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  wish  to  see  Berlin,  where  his  mother  had  so  lately  died, 
adorned  in  festal  array. 

Hour  after  hour  passed.  The  sun  was  setting.  The  flowers 
which  had  been  taken  from  the  greenhouses  to  decorate  the  arch  of 
triiunph,  bowed  their  lovely  heads  sadly  in  the  rough  March  winds. 
The  fresh,  cool  breeze  whistled  through  the  light  draperies  and  dis- 
placed their  artistic  folds.  Notwithstanding  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
citizens,  they  began  to  be  hungry,  and  to  long  greatly  for  the  con- 
clusion of  these  solemnities.  Still  the  king  came  not.  TheBerliners 
waited  awhile  longer,  and  then  one  after  another  quietly  withdrew. 
Tliis  bad  example  was  speedily  imitated,  and  the  gay  cortege  of 
riders  grew  small  by  degrees  and  beautifully  less.  At  sunset  but  a 
few  hundred  citizens  remained  at  the  gate,  and  even  these  heroic 
Spartans  showed  but  little  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  morning. 

Marquis  d'Argens  was  in  despair,  and  if  Frederick  had  arrived 
at  this  moment  he  would  have  heard  a  reproachful  phillipic  from  his 
impatient  friend  instead  of  a  hearty  welcome.  But  fortune  did  not 
favor  him  so  far  as  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  relieve  his  tem- 
per. The  king  did  not  appear.  The  marquis  at  last  proposed  to  the 
citizens  to  get  torches,  and  thus  in  spite  of  the  darkness  give  to  their 
king  a  glittering  reception.  They  agreed  cheerfully,  and  the  most 
of  them  dashed  off  to  the  city  to  make  the  necessary  preparations. 

The  streets  were  soon  brilliantly  lighted,  and  now  in  the  dis- 
tance the  king's  carriage  was  seen  approaching.  Throughout  the 
vast  train  shouts  and  vivats  were  heard,  and  the  proud  voices  of  this 
happy  people  filled  the  air  as  with  the  thunder  of  artillery. 

"Long  life  to  the  king  !    Long  life  to  Frederick  the  Great !" 

The  carriage  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  now  myriads  of  lights 
danced  around  it.  The  citizens  had  returned  with  their  torches, 
and  the  carriage  of  Frederick  rolled  on  as  if  in  a  sea  of  fire.  It  drew 
vip  at  the  arch  of  triumph.  The  king  rose  and  turned  his  face 
toward  his  people,  who  were  shouting  their  glad  welcome.     The 


THE  KING'S  RETtJIiN.  4'M 

light  from  the  torches  fell  upon  his  countenance,  and  their  red  lustre 
gave  his  cheek  a  fresh  and  youthful  appearance. 

His  subjects  saw  once  more  his  sparkling,  speaking  eye,  in  which 
shone  the  same  energy,  the  same  imperial  power,  as  in  days  gone 
by.  They  saw  the  soft,  sympathetic  smile  which  played  around  his 
eloquent  lips — they  saw  him,  their  king,  their  hero,  and  were  glad. 
Tliey  laughed  and  shouted  with  rapture.  They  stretched  out  their 
arms  as  if  to  clasp  in  one  universal  embrace  their  dear-loved  king, 
who  was  so  great,  so  beautiful,  so  far  above  them  in  his  bright 
radiance.  They  threw  him  fond  kisses,  and  every  utterance  of  his 
name  seemed  a  prayer  to  God  for  his  happiness. 

But  one  stood  by  the  caiTiage  who  could  not  speak — whose 
silent,  trembling  lips  were  more  eloquent  than  words.  No  language 
could  express  the  delight  of  D'Argent — no  words  could  paint  the 
emotion  which  moved  his  soul  and  filled  his  eyes  with  tears. 

The  king  recognized  him,  and  holding  out  his  hand  invited  him 
to  take  a  seat  in  the  carriage.  Then  giving  one  more  greeting  to 
his  people,  he  said,  "  Onward — onward  to  Charlottenburg. " 

At  a  quick  pace  the  caiTiage  drove  through  Berlin.  Those  wlio 
had  not  had  the  courage  and  strength  to  await  the  king  at  the 
Frankfort  gate,  were  now  crowding  the  streets  to  welcome  him. 

Frederick  did  not  raise  himself  again  from  the  dark  comer  of 
the  carriage.  He  left  it  to  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  to  return  the 
salutations  of  the  people.  He  remained  motionless,  and  did  not 
even  appear  to  hear  the  shouts  of  his  subjects.  Not  once  did  he 
raise  his  hand  to  greet  them — not  a  word  passed  his  lips. 

When  they  ci'ossed  the  king's  bridge  and  reached  the  castle 
grounds,  the  people  were  assembled  and  closely  crowded  together. 
Frederick  now  raised  himself,  but  he  did  not  see  them — he  did  not 
regard  the  brilliantly  illuminated  houses,  or  the  grounds  sparkling 
in  a  flood  of  light.  He  turned  slowly  and  sadly  toward  the  castle — 
his  eye  rested  upon  that  dark,  gloomy  mass  of  stone,  which  arose  to 
the  right,  and  contrasted  mysteriously  with  the  brilliant  houses 
around  it.  It  looked  like  a  monstrous  coffin  suiTounded  by  death - 
lights.  Frederick  gazed  long  and  steadily  at  the  castle.  He  raised 
his  head  once  more,  but  not  to  greet  his  subjects.  He  covered  his 
face — he  would  not  be  looked  at  in  his  grief.  D' Argens  heard  liim 
murmur,  "My  mother,  oh  my  mother!     Oh,  my  sister!" 

The  Prussians  welcomed  joyously  the  return  of  their  great  king, 
but  Frederick  thought  only  at  this  moment  of  those  who  could  never 
return — those  whom  death  had  torn  from  him  forever.  Onwaid, 
onward  through  the  lighted  streets!  All  the  inhabitants  of  Berlin 
seemed  to  be  abroad.  This  was  a  Roman  triumph,  well  calculated 
to  fill  the  heart  of  a  sovereign  with  just  pride. 


472       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  Hlfl  EAMILV. 

Tlie  Berliuers  did  not  see  that  Frederick  had  no  glance  for  them. 
Gloom  and  despair  veiled  his  countenance,  and  no  one  dreamed  tliat 
this  king,  whom  they  delighted  to  honor,  was  at  this  proud  moment 
a  weeping  son,  a  mourning  brother. 

At  last  the  joyous,  careless  city  lay  behind  them,  and  they  ap- 
proached Charlottenburg. 

The  noise  and  tumult  gradually  ceased,  and  a  welcome  quiet 
ensued.  Frederick  did  not  utter  one  word,  and  no  one  dared  to 
break  the  oppressive  silence.  This  triumphant  procession  seemed 
changed  to  a  burial-march.  The  victor  in  so  many  battles  seemed 
now  mastered  by  his  memories. 

The  carriage  drew  up  at  Charlottenburg.  The  wide  court  was 
filled  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  city,  who  welcomed  the  king 
as  enthusiastically  as  the  Berliners  had  done.  Frederick  saluted 
them  abruptly,  and  stepped  quickly  into  the  hall. 

The  castle  had  been  changed  into  a  temple  of  glory  and  beauty 
in  honor  of  the  king's  return.  The  pillars  which  supported  it  were 
wound  around  with  wreaths  of  lovely,  fragrant  blossoms;  costly 
draperies,  gay  flags,  and  emblems  adorned  the  walls ;  the  floors 
were  covered  with  rich  Turkish  carpets  ;  the  gilded  candelabras  shed 
their  variegated  lights  in  every  direction,  in'adiating  the  faces  of 
the  court  cavaliers  glittering  with  stars  and  orders,  and  the  rich 
toilets  of  the  ladies.     The  eflfect  was  dazzling. 

In  the  middle  of  the  open  space  two  ladies  were  standing,  one  in 
royal  attire,  sparkling  in  diamonds  and  gold  embroideries,  the  other 
in  mourning,  with  no  ornament  but  pearls,  the  emblem  of  tears. 
Tlie  one  with  a  happy,  hopeful  face  gazed  at  the  king ;  the  other 
with  a  sad,  weary  countenance,  in  which  sickness,  sorrow,  and  dis- 
appointment had  drawn  their  heavy  lines,  turned  slowly  toward 
him  ;  her  large  eyes,  red  with  weeping,  were  fixed  upon  him  with 
an  angry,  reproachful  expression. 

Frederick  drawing  near,  recognized  the  queen  and  the  Princess 
Amelia.  At  the  sight  of  this  dearly -beloved  face,  the  queen,  for- 
getting her  usual  timidity  and  assumed  coldness,  stepped  eagerly 
forward  and  offered  both  her  hands  to  her  husband.  Her  whole 
heart,  the  long- suppressed  fervor  of  her  soul,  spoke  in  her  moist  and 
glowing  eyes.  Her  lips,  which  had  so  long  been  silent,  so  long 
guarded  their  sweet  secret,  expressed,  though  silently,  fond  words 
of  love.  Elizabeth  Christine  was  no  longer  young,  no  longer  beauti- 
ful ;  she  had  passed  through  many  years  of  suffering  and  inward 
struggle,  but  at  this  moment  she  was  lovely.  The  eternal  youth  of 
tiie  soul  lighted  her  fair  brow — the  flash  of  hope  and  happines-^s 
glimmered  in  her  eyes.  But  Fi'ederick  saw  nothing  of  this.  H« 
had  no  sympathy  for  this  pale  and  gentle  queen,  now  glowing  with 


THE  KING'S  RETURN.  473 

vitality.  He  thought  only  of  the  dearly-loved  queen  and  mother 
who  had  gone  down  into  the  cold,  dark  grave.  I'rederick  bowed 
coldly  to  Elizabeth  Christine,  and  took  both  her  hands  in  his  a  short 
moment. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "this  is  a  sad  moment.  The  queen  my 
mother  is  missing  from  your  side. " 

Elizabeth  Christine  started  painfully,  and  the  hands  which  the 
king  had  released  fell  powerless  to  her  side.  Frederick's  harsh, 
cruel  words  had  pierced  her  heart  and  quenched  the  tears  of  joy  and 
hope  which  stood  in  her  eyes. 

Elizabeth  was  incapable  of  reply.  Princess  Amelia  came  to  her 
relief. 

"  If  my  brother,  the  king,  while  greeting  us  after  his  long  ab- 
sence, is  unconscious  of  our  presence  and  sees  only  the  faces  of  the 
dead,  he  must  also  be  forced  to  look  upon  my  unhappy  brother. 
Prince  Augustus  William,  who  died  of  a  broken  heart. " 

The  king's  piercing  eyes  rested  a  moment  with  a  sti-augely  mel- 
ancholy expression  upon  the  sorrowful,  sickly  face  of  the  Princess 
Amelia. 

"  Not  so,  my  sister, "  said  he,  softly  and  gently ;  "  I  not  only  see 
those  who  have  been  torn  from  us  by  death,  I  look  upon  and  wel- 
come gladly  those  who  have  been  spared  to  me.  I  am  happy  to  see 
you  here  to-day,  my  sister." 

Fi'ederick  offered  Amelia  his  hand,  and  bowing  silently  to  those 
who  were  present,  he  entered  his  apartment,  followed  only  by  the 
Marquis  d'Argens. 

Frederick  stepped  rapidly  through  the  first  room,  scarcely  looking 
at  the  new  paintings  which  adorned  the  walls ;  he  entered  his 
study  and  threw  a  long,  thoughtful  glance  around  this  dear  room. 
Every  piece  of  furniture,  every  book,  recalled  charming  memories 
of  the  past — eveiy  thing  stood  as  he  had  left  it  seven  years  ago.  He 
now  for  the  first  time  realized  the  joy  of  being  again  at  home  ;  his 
countiy  had  received  him  and  embraced  him  with  loving  arms. 

With  glowing  cheeks  he  turned  toward  the  marquis,  who  was 
leaning  against  the  door  behind  him.  * 

"Oh,  D'Argens  !  it  is  sweet  to  be  again  in  one's  own  native  land 
— the  peace  of  home  is  sweet.  The  old  furniture  appears  to  welcome 
me  ;  that  old  chair  stretches  its  arms  wooingly  toward  me,  as  if  to 
lure  me  to  its  bosom,  and  give  me  soft  sleep  and  sweet  dreams  in 
its  embrace.  Marquis,  I  feel  a  longing  to  gratify  my  old  friend  ;  I 
yield  to  its  gentle,  silent  pleadings." 

Frederick  stepped  to  the  arm-chair  and  sank  into  it  with  an  ex- 
pression of  indescribable  comfort. 

"Ah,  now  I  feel  that  I  am  indeed  at  home." 


474       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Allow  me, "said  D'Argens,  "to  say,  your  majesty,  what  tlie 
dear  old  arm-chair,  in  spite  of  its  eloquence,  cannot  express.  I, 
also,  am  a  piece  of  the  old  fmriiture  of  this  dear  room,  and  in  the 
name  of  all  my  voiceless  companions,  I  cry  '  Welcome  to  my  king  !' 
We  welcome  you  to  your  coimtry  and  your  home.  You  return 
greater  even  than  when  you  left  us.  Your  noble  brow  is  adorned 
with  imperishable  laurels ;  your  fame  resounds  throughout  the  earth, 
and  every  nation  sings  to  you  a  liymn  of  victory. " 

"  Well,  well, "  said  Frederick,  smilingly,  "  do  not  look  too  sharply 
at  my  claims  to  such  world-wide  renown,  or  my  fame  will  lose  a 
portion  of  its  lustre.  You  will  see  that  chance  has  done  almost 
every  thing  for  me — more  than  my  own  valor  and  wisdom,  and  the 
bravery  of  my  troops  combined.  Chance  has  been  my  best  ally 
during  this  entire  war.*  Chance  enabled  me  to  escape  the  famine 
camp  of  Bunzelwitz — chance  gave  me  the  victory  over  my  enemies. 
Speak  no  more  of  my  fame,  marquis,  at  least  not  in  this  sacred 
room,  where  Cicero,  Caesar,  Lucretius,  and  Thucydides  look  down 
upon  us  from  the  walls  ;  where  the  voiceless  books  with  their  gilded 
letters  announce  to  us  that  we  are  surrounded  by  great  spirits. 
Speak  not  of  fame  to  me,  D'Argens,  when  from  yonder  book-shelf  I 
see  the  name  of  Athalie.  I  would  rather  have  written  Athalie,  than 
to  have  all  the  fame  arising  from  this  seven  years'  war. "  f 

"Herein  I  recognize  the  peaceful,  noble  tastes  of  my  king,"  said 
D'Argens,  deeply  moved  ;  "years  of  hardship  and  victory  have  not 
changed  him — the  conquering  hero  is  the  loving  friend  and  the 
wise  philosopher.  I  knew  this  must  be  so — I  knew  the  heart  of  my 
king ;  I  knew  he  would  regard  the  day  on  which  he  gave  peace  to 
his  people  as  far  more  glorious  than  any  day  of  bloody  battle  and 
triumphant  victory.  The  day  of  peace  to  Pnissia  is  the  most  glori- 
ous, the  happiest  day  of  her  great  king's  life." 

Frederick  shook  his  head  softly,  and  gazed  with  infinite  sadness 
at  his  friend's  agitated  countenance. 

"Ah,  D'Argens,  believe  me,  the  most  beautiful,  the  happiest  day 
is  that  on  which  we  take  leave  of  life." 

As  Frederick  turned  his  eyes  away  from  his  friend,  they  fell 
accidentally  upon  a  porcelain  vase  wliich  stood  upon  a  table  near 
his  secretary  ;  he  sprang  hastily  from  his  chair. 

"How  came  this  vase  here?"  he  said,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"Sire,"  said  the  marquis,  "the  queen- mother,  shortly  before  her 
death,  ordered  this  vase  to  be  placed  in  this  room ;  she  prized  it 
liighly — it  was  a  present  from  her  royal  brother,  George  II.  Her 
majesty  wished  that,  on  your  return  from  the  war,  it  might  serve 

♦  The  king's  own  words, 
tibld. 


THE  KING'S  RETURN.  475 

as  a  remembrance  of  your  fond  mother.  At  her  command,  I  placed 
that  packet  of  letters  at  the  foot  of  the  vase,  after  the  queen-mother 
had  sealed  and  addressed  it  with  her  dying  hand." 

Frederick  was  silent ;  he  bowed  his  head  upon  the  vase,  as  if  to 
cool  his  burning  brow  upon  its  cold,  glassy  surface.  He,  perha|)S, 
wished  also  to  conceal  from  his  friend  the  tears  which  rolled  slowly 
down  his  cheeks,  and  fell  upon  the  packet  of  letters  lying  before 
him. 

The  king  kissed  the  packet  reverentially,  and  examined  with  a 
deep  sigh  the  trembling  characters  traced  by  the  hand  of  his  beloved 
mother. 

"  For  my  son — the  king. " 

Frederick  read  the  address  softly.  "  Alas !  my  dear  mother,  how 
poor  you  have  made  me.     I  am  now  no  longer  a  son — only  a  king !" 

He  bowed  his  head  over  the  packet,  and  pressed  his  mother's 
writing  to  his  lips,  then  laid  the  letters  at  the  foot  of  the  vase  and 
remained  standing  thoughtfully  before  it. 

A  long  pause  ensued.  Frederick  stood  with  folded  arms  before 
the  vase,  and  the  marquis  leaned  against  the  door  behind  him. 
Suddenly  the  king  turned  to  him. 

"  I  beg  a  favor  of  you,  marquis.  Hasten  to  Berlin,  and  tell  Benda 
he  must  perform  the  Te  Deum  of  my  dear  Graun  here  in  the  castle 
chapel  to-mon'ow  morning  at  nine  o'clock.  I  know  the  singere  of 
the  chapel  can  execute  it — they  gave  it  once  after  the  battle  of 
Leignitz.  Tell  Benda  to  make  no  difficulties,  for  it  is  my  express 
wish  to  hear  the  music  to-morrow  morning.  I  trust  to  you,  mar- 
quis, to  see  my  wish  fulfilled,  to  make  the  impossible  possible,  if 
you  find  it  necessary.  Call  me  capricious  if  you  will,  for  desiring 
to  hear  this  music  to-morrow.  I  have  so  long  been  controlled  by 
stern  realities,  that  I  will  allow  myself  now  to  yield  to  a  caprice. " 

He  gave  his  hand  to  the  marquis,  who  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"Sire,  to-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock  the  Te  Deum  shall  be 
performed  in  the  chapel,  should  I  even  be  compelled  to  pass  the 
night  in  arousing  the  musicians  from  their  beds." 

The  marquis  kept  his  word ;  he  surmounted  all  difficulties,  re- 
moved all  objections.  In  vain  Benda  declared  the  organ  in  the 
chapel  was  out  of  tune,  the  performance  impossible ;  the  marquis 
hastened  to  the  organist  and  obliged  him  to  put  it  in  order  that 
night.  In  vain  the  singers  protested  against  singing  this  difficult 
music  before  the  king  without  preparation  ;  D' Argens  commanded 
them  in  the  name  of  the  king  to  have  a  rehearsal  during  the  night. 
Thanks  to  his  nervous  energy  and  zeal,  the  singers  assembled,  and 
Benda  stood  before  his  desk  to  direct  this  midnight  concert. 

When  the  clock  struck  nine  tb©  next  morning  every  diflSculty 


476        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

had  been  set  aside,  and  every  preparation  completed.  The  organist 
was  in  his  place,  the  organ  in  order  ;  the  musicians  tuned  their  in- 
strimients,  the  singers  were  prepared,  and  the  chapel- master,  Benda, 
was  in  their  midst,  bdton  in  hand. 

All  eyes  were  directed  toward  the  door  opposite  the  choir, 
through  which  the  court  must  enter  ;  all  hearts  were  beating  with 
joyful  expectation — all  were  anxious  to  see  the  king  once  more  in 
the  midst  of  his  friends,  in  his  family  circle.  Every  one  sympa- 
thized in  the  queen's  happiness  at  being  accompanied  once  more  by 
her  husband  ;  laying  aside  her  loneliness  and  widowhood,  and  ap- 
pearing in  public  by  his  side. 

All  eyes,  as  we  have  said,  were  impatiently  directed  toward  the 
door,  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  their  majesties  and  the  court. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened.  Yes,  there  was  the  king.  He  stepped 
forward  very  quietly,  his  head  a  little  bowed  down  ;  in  the  midst 
of  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  chapel  his  step  resounded  loudly. 

Yes,  it  was  Frederick  the  Great,  he  was  alone,  accompanied  by 
no  royal  state,  surrounded  by  no  glittering  crowd — but  it  was  the 
king ;  in  the  glory  of  his  majesty,  his  endurance,  and  his  valor, 
radiant  in  the  splendor  of  his  heroic  deeds  and  his  great  victories. 

Frederick  seated  himself  slowly,  gave  one  quick  glance  at  the 
choir,  and  waved  his  hand  to  them.  Benda  raised  his  bdton  and 
gave  the  sign  to  commence.  And  now  a  stream  of  rich  harmony 
floated  through  the  chapel.  The  organ,  with  its  powerful,  majestic 
tones;  the  trumpets,  with  their  joyous  greeting;  the  drums,  with 
their  thunder,  and  the  soft,  melting  tones  of  the  violin  and  flute, 
mingled  together  in  sweet  accord. 

Tlie  king,  with  head  erect  and  eager  countenance,  listened  to 
the  beautiful  and  melodious  introduction.  He  seemed  to  be  all  ear, 
to  have  no  other  thought,  no  other  passion  than  this  music,  which 
was  wholly  unknown  to  him.  And  now,  with  a  powerful  accord, 
the  sweetly-attuned  human  voices  joined  in,  and  the  choir  sang  in 
melting  unison  the  Te  Deum  Laudamus,  which  resounded  solemnly, 
grandly  through  the  aisles.  The  king  turned  pale,  and  as  the  hymn 
of  i^raise  became  more  full  and  rich,  his  head  sank  back  and  his 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  floor. 

Louder  and  fuller  rose  the  solemn  tones ;  suddenly,  from  the 
midst  of  the  choir,  a  soft,  melting  tenor  sang  in  a  sweet,  touching 
Toice,  Tuha  mirum  spargeus  aonum.  Frederick's  head  sank  still 
lower  upon  his  breast,  and  at  last,  no  lopger  able  to  restrain  his 
tears,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Tlie  lofty  strains  of  this  solemn  hymn  resounded  through  the 
empty  church,  which  until  now  had  been  wrapped  in  gray  clouds, 
fei^t  ift  §  jnonjept  flje  8UJ^  burst  t:om  v^hig^J  the  cloude,  darted  JtS 


PRINCE  HENRY.  4'7l 

rays  through  the  windows,  and  lighted  up  the  church  with  golden 
glory.  The  king  who,  until  now,  had  been  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cloud,  was  as  if  by  magic  bathed  in  a  sea  of  light.  All  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  his  bowed  head,  his  face  partially  covered  with  his  hands, 
and  the  tears  gushing  from  his  eyes. 

No  one  could  withstand  the  silent  power  of  this  scene  ;  the  eyes  of 
the  singers  filled  with  tears,  and  they  could  only  continue  their  chant 
in  soft,  broken,  sobbing  tones,  but  Benda  was  not  angry  ;  he  dared 
not  look  at  tliem,  lest  they  might  see  that  his  own  stern  eyes  were 
veiled  in  tears. 

Frederick  seemed  more  and  more  absorbed  in  himself — lost  in 
painful  memories.  But  the  loud  hosannas  resounded  and  awakened 
him  from  his  slumber ;  he  dared  no  longer  give  himself  up  to  brood- 
ing. He  arose  slowly  from  his  seat,  and  silent  and  alone,  even  as 
he  had  entered,  he  left  the  church. 


CHAPTER    II. 

PRINCE    HENRY. 

Seven  years  had  passed  since  Prince  Henry  had  left  his  wife,  to 
fight  with  his  brother  against  his  enemies.  During  these  long  years 
of  strife  and  contest,  neither  the  king  nor  the  prince  had  returned 
to  Berlin.  Like  the  king,  he  also  had  won  for  himself  fame  and 
glory  upon  the  battle-field.  Much  more  fortunate  than  his  brother, 
he  had  won  many  victories,  and  had  not  sustained  a  single  defeat 
with  his  army  corps.  More  successful  in  all  his  undertakings  than 
Frederick,  perhaps  also  more  deliberate  and  careful,  he  had  always 
chosen  the  right  hour  to  attack  the  enemy,  and  was  always  prepared 
for  any  movement.  His  thoughtfulness  and  energy  had  more  than 
once  released  the  king  from  some  disagreeable  or  dangerous  position. 
To  the  masterly  manner  in  which  Prince  Henry  managed  to  unite 
l\is  forces  with  those  of  his  brother  after  the  battle  of  Kiinersdorf, 
the  king  owed  his  escape  from  the  enemies  which  then  surrounded 
him.  And  to  the  great  and  glorious  victory  gained  by  Prince 
Henry  over  the  troops  of  the  empire  and  of  Austria  at  Freiberg,  the 
present  happy  peace  was  to  be  attributed.  This  battle  had  subdued 
the  courage  of  the  Austrians,  and  had  filled  the  generals  of  the  troops 
of  the  empire  with  such  terror,  that  they  declared  at  once  their  un- 
willingness to  continue  the  war,  and  their  determination  to  return 
with  their  forces  to  their  different  countries. 

The  battle  of  Freiberg  was  the  last  battle  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War.     It  brought  to  Prince  Henry  such  laurels  as  the  king  had 


478       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

gained  at  Leignitz  and  Torgau ;  it  placed  him  at  his  brother's  side 
as  an  equal.  Frederick  saw  it  without  envy  or  bitteraess,  and  re- 
joiced in  the  fulness  of  his  great  soul,  in  his  brother's  fame.  When 
he  found  himself,  for  the  first  time  after  the  Seven  Years'  War,  sur- 
rounded at  Berlin  by  the  princes  and  generals,  he  advanced  with 
a  cordial  smile  to  his  brother,  and  laying  his  hand  gently  on  liia 
shoulder,  said  aloud : 

"You  see  here,  sirs,  the  only  one  amongst  us  all  who  did  not 
commit  a  single  mistake  during  the  war !" 

Seven  years  had  passed  since  Prince  Henry  had  seen  his  young 
wife,  Princess  Wilhelmina.  He  could  at  last  return  to  her— to  his 
beloved  Rheinsberg,  and  find  rest  after  his  many  years  of  wander- 
ing. He  had  written  to  the  princess,  and  requested  her  not  to  meet 
him  in  Berlin,  but  to  find  some  pretext  for  remaining  at  Rheins- 
berg. His  proud  soul  could  not  endure  the  thought  that  the  woman 
he  loved,  who  appeared  to  him  fit  to  grace  the  first  throne  of  the 
world,  would  occupy  an  inferior  position  at  court — would  have  to 
stand  behind  the  queen.  He  had  never  envied  the  king  his  crown 
or  his  position,  but  his  heart  now  craved  the  crown  of  the  queen, 
for  the  brow  of  his  own  beautiful  wife,  who  seemed  much  better 
fittfed  to  wear  it  than  the  gentle,  timid  Elizabeth  Christine.  Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina  had  therefore  remained  at  Rheinsberg,  feigning 
sickness. 

It  was  night !  The  castle  of  Rheinsberg  glittered  with  the  light 
of  the  torches  by  which  the  gates  were  adorned,  to  welcome  the 
prince  to  his  home.  The  saloons  and  halls  were  brilliantly  lighted, 
and  in  them  a  gay,  merry  crowd  was  assembled.  All  the  prince's 
friends  and  acquaintances  had  been  invited  by  Princess  Wilhelmina 
to  greet  his  return. 

Every  thing  in  the  castle  bore  the  appearance  of  happiness — all 
seemed  gay  and  cheerful.  But  still,  there  was  one  whose  heart  was 
beating  anxiously  at  the  thought  of  the  approaching  hour — it  was 
the  Princess  Wilhelmina.  She  was  gorgeously  dressed  ;  diamonds 
glittered  on  her  brow  and  throat,  bright  roses  gleamed  upon  her 
breast,  and  a  smile  was  on  her  full,  red  lips.  No  one  knew  the 
agony  this  smile  cost  her !  No  one  knew  that  the  red  which  burned 
upon  her  cheek  was  caused,  not  by  joy,  but  terror ! 

Yes,  terror !  She  was  afraid  of  this  meeting,  in  which  she  was 
to  receive  the  prince  as  her  loved  husband,  while,  during  the  long 
years  of  absence,  he  had  become  a  perfect  stranger  to  her.  Not  even 
bound  to  him  by  the  daily  occurrences  of  life,  she  had  no  sympathies 
with  the  husband  who  had  been  forced  upon  her,  and  who  had  once 
contemptuously  put  aside  the  timid  heart  that  was  then  prepared  to 
love  him.    This  stranger  she  was  now  to  meet  with  every  sign  of 


PRINCE  HENRY.  479 

love,  because  he  had  one  day  waked  up  to  the  conviction  that  the 
heart  he  had  once  spurned  was  worthy  of  him.  It  was  her  duty 
now  to  return  this  love — to  consecrate  the  rich  treasures  of  her  heart 
to  him  who  had  once  scorned  them.  Her  soul  rose  in  arms  at  this 
thought  like  an  insulted  lioness,  and  she  felt  some  of  that  burning 
hatred  that  the  lioness  feels  for  her  master  who  wishes  to  tame  her 
with  an  iron  rod.  The  prince  was  to  her  but  her  master,  who  had 
bound  and  held  her  heart  in  irons,  to  keep  it  from  escaping  from 
him. 

During  these  seven  long  years,  she  had  experienced  all  the  free- 
dom and  happiness  of  girlhood  ;  her  heart  had  beat  with  a  power,  a 
fire  condemned  by  the  princess  herself,  but  which  she  was  incapable 
of  extinguishing. 

Trembling  and  restless,  she  wandered  through  the  rooms,  smil- 
ing when  she  would  have  given  worlds  to  have  shrieked  out  her 
pain,  her  agony;  decked  in  splendid  garments,  when  she  would 
gladly  have  been  in  her  shroud.  Every  sound,  every  step,  filled  her 
with  terror,  for  it  might  announce,  the  arrival  of  her  husband,  whom 
she  must  welcome  with  hypocritical  love  and  joy.  Could  she  but 
show  him  her  scorn,  her  hatred,  her  indifference  !  But  the  laws  of 
etiquette  held  her  in  their  stern  bonds  and  would  not  release  her. 
She  was  a  princess,  and  could  not  escape  from  the  painful  restraints 
of  her  position.  She  had  not  the  courage  to  do  so.  At  times  in  her 
day-dreams,  she  longed  to  leave  all  the  cold,  deceitful  glare,  by 
which  she  was  surrounded — to  go  to  some  far  distant  valley,  and 
there  to  live  alone  and  unknown,  by  the  side  of  her  lover,  where  no 
etiquette  would  disturb  their  happiness — where  she  would  be  free  as 
the  birds  of  the  air,  as  careless  as  the  flowers  of  the  field.  But  these 
wild  dreams  vanished  when  the  cold,  cruel  reality  appeared  to  her. 
By  the  side  of  the  once- loving  woman  stood  again  the  princess,  who 
could  not  surrender  the  splendor  and  magnificence  by  which  she  was 
surrounded.  She  had  not  the  courage  nor  the  wish  to  descend  from 
her  height  to  the  daily  life  of  common  mortals.  There  was  dissen- 
sion in  her  soul  between  the  high -bom  princess  and  the  loving, 
passionate  woman.  She  was  capable  of  making  any  and  every  sac- 
rifice for  her  love,  but  she  had  never  openly  confessed  this  love,  and 
even  in  her  wildest  dreams  she  had  never  thought  of  changing  her 
noble  name  and  position  for  those  of  her  lover.  She  could  have  fled 
with  him  to  some  distant  valley,  but  would  she  be  happy?  Would 
she  not  regret  her  former  life?  Princess  Wilhelmina  felt  the  dis- 
sension in  her  soul,  and  therefore  she  trembled  at  the  thought  of  her 
husband's  return.  This  meeting  would  decide  her  whole  future. 
Perhaps  she  could  still  be  saved.  The  prince,  returning  covered 
with  fame  ^d  crowged  wi(ih  laurels,  might  now  wiij  Jiey  love,  9,n^ 


480        FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

drive  from  her  heart  every  other  thought.  But  if  he  cannot  win  it— 
if  his  return  is  not  suflScient  to  loosen  the  chains  which  bind  her — 
then  she  was  lost — then  she  could  not  resist  the  intoxicating  whis- 
pers luiing  her  to  ruin. 

These  were  Princess  Wilhelmina's  thoughts  as  she  leaned  against 
a  window  of  the  brilliant  ball-room,  the  protection  of  whose  heavy 
curtains  she  had  sought  to  drive  for  a  moment  from  her  face  the  gay 
yniile  and  to  breathe  out  the  sighs  that  were  almost  rending  her 
heart.  She  was  gazing  at  the  dark  night  without — at  the  bright, 
staiTy  sky  above.  Her  lips  moved  in  a  low  prayer — her  timid  soul 
turned  to  God  with  its  fears. 

"O  God,  my  God!"  murmured  she,  "stand  by  me.  Take  from 
me  the  sinful  thoughts  that  fill  my  heart.  Make  me  to  love  my 
husband.     Keep  my  soul  free  from  shame  and  sin. " 

Hasty  steps,  loud,  meriy  voices  from  the  hall,  disturbed  her 
dreams.  She  left  her  retreat,  meeting  everywhere  gay  smiles  and 
joyous  faces.  At  the  door  stood  the  prince  her  husband.  He  ad- 
vanced eagerly  to  her  side,  and  ignoring  etiquette  and  the  gay 
assemblage  alike  he  pressed  the  princess  to  his  heart  and  kissed  her 
on  both  cheeks. 

Wilhelmina  drew  from  him  in  deadly  terror,  and  a  burning 
anger  filled  her  heart.  Had  she  loved  the  prince,  this  public  dem- 
onstration of  his  tenderness  would  perhaps  have  pleased  and  surely 
been  forgiven  by  her.  As  it  was,  she  took  his  embrace  and  kisses 
as  an  insult,  which  was  only  to  be  endured  by  compulsion — for 
which  she  would  surely  revenge  herself. 

Prince  Henry  was  so  joyous,  so  happy  at  meeting  his  wife  once 
more,  that  he  did  not  notice  her  embarrassed  silence,  her  stiff 
haughtiness,  and  thought  she  shared  his  joj',  his  delight. 

This  confidence  seemed  to  the  princess  presumptuous  and  humili- 
ating. She  confessed  to  herself  that  the  prince's  manners  were  not 
in  the  least  improved  by  hia  long  campaign — that  they  were  some- 
what brusque.  He  took  her  hand  tenderly  ;  leading  her  to  a  divan, 
and  seated  himself  be-side  her,  but  suddenly  jumping  up  lie  left  her, 
and  returned  in  a  few  moments  with  his  friend  Count  Kalkreuth. 

"  Permit  rae,  Wilhelmina, "  said  he,  "  to  introduce  to  you  again 
my  dear  friend  and  companion  in  arms.  Men  say  I  have  won  some 
fame,  but  I  assure  you  that  if  it  is  true,  Kalkreuth  deserves  the 
largest  share,  for  he  was  the  gardener  who  tended  my  laurels  with 
wise  and  prudent  hands.  I  commend  him,  therefore,  to  your  kind- 
ness and  friendship,  Wilhelmina,  and  beg  you  to  evince  for  him  a 
part  of  that  affection  you  owe  to  me,  and  which  causes  my  happi- 
ness." 

There  wps  something  so  noble,  so  open,  and  knijjhtly  in  tti9 


PRINCE  HENRY.  481 

prince's  manner,  that  Count  Kalkreuth,  deeply  touched,  thought  in 
his  heart  for  a  moment  that  he  would  not  deceive  this  noble  friend 
with  treachery  and  faithlessness. 

The  prince's  words  had  a  different  effect  upon  the  princess.  In- 
stead of  being  touched  by  his  great  confidence  in  her,  she  was  in- 
sulted. It  indicated  great  arrogance  and  self-conceit  to  be  so  sure 
of  her  love  as  to  see  no  danger,  but  to  bring  his  friend  to  her  and 
commend  him  to  her  kindness.  It  humiliated  her  for  the  prince  to 
speak  with  such  confidence  of  her  affection  as  of  a  thing  impossible 
to  lose.  She  determined,  therefore,  to  punish  him.  With  a  bright 
smile,  she  held  out  her  hand  to  the  count,  and  said  to  him  a  few 
kind  words  of  welcome.  How  she  had  trembled  at  the  thought  of 
this  meeting — how  she  had  blushed  at  the  thought  of  standing  be- 
side the  count  with  the  conviction  that  not  one  of  her  words  was 
forgotten — that  the  confession  of  love  she  had  made  to  the  departing 
soldier  belonged  now  to  the  returned  nobleman  1  But  her  husband's 
confidence  had  shorn  the  meeting  of  all  its  teiTor,  and  made  the 
road  she  had  to  travel  easy. 

The  count  bowed  deeply  before  her  and  pressed  her  hand  to  his 
lips.  She  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  and,  as  he  raised  his 
head  and  fixed  an  almost  imploring  glance  upon  her,  he  encountered 
her  eyes  beaming  with  unutterable  love. 

The  court  assembly  stood  in  groups,  looking  with  cold,  inquisi- 
tive eyes  at  the  piquant  scene  the  prince  in  the  innocence  of  his 
heart  had  prepared  for  them — which  was  to  them  an  inimitable  jest, 
an  excellent  amusement.  They  all  knew — what  the  prince  did  not 
for  a  moment  suspect — that  Count  Kalkreuth  adored  the  princess. 
They  now  desired  to  see  if  this  love  was  returned  by  the  princess, 
or  suffered  by  her  as  a  coquette. 

None  had  gazed  at  this  scene  with  such  breathless  sympathy, 
such  cruel  joy,  as  Madame  du  Troufile.  Being  one  of  the  usual 
circle  at  Rheinsberg,  she  had  been  invited  by  the  princess  to  the 
present  fete,  and  it  seemed  to  her  very  amusing  to  receive  her  own 
husband,  not  at  their  home,  but  at  the  castle  of  her  former  lover. 
Major  du  Trouffle  was  on  the  prince's  staff,  and  had  accompanied 
him  to  Rheinsberg. 

Louise  had  not  as  yet  found  time  to  greet  her  husband.  Her 
glance  was  fixed  eagerly  upon  the  princess ;  she  noticed  her  every 
movement,  her  every  look  ;  she  watched  every  smile,  every  quiver 
of  her  lip.  Her  husband  stood  at  her  side — he  had  been  there  for 
some  time,  greeting  her  in  low,  tender  words — but  Louise  did  not 
attend  to  him.  She  seemed  not  to  see  him  ;  her  whole  soul  was  in 
her  eyes,  and  they  were  occupied  with  the  princess.  Suddenly  she 
turns  b^r  sparkling  ejes  upon  her  husband  ?»n4  murijiu js  ;  "  Jfe  i§ 


482        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

lost !  His  laurels  will  be  insufficient  to  cover  the  brand  which  from 
to-day  on  will  glow  upon  his  brow  !"  Her  husband  looked  at  her  in 
amazement. 

"  Is  this  your  welcome,  after  seven  long  years  of  absence,  Louise?" 
said  he,  sadly. 

She  laid  her  hand  hastily  upon  his  arm,  saying,  "Hush,  hush!" 
Once  more  she  gazed  at  the  princess,  who  was  talking  and  laughing 
gayly  with  her  husband  and  Count  Kalkreuth.  "  How  her  cheeks 
glow,  and  what  tender  glances  she  throws  him  !"  murmured  Louise. 
"Ah  1  the  prince  has  fallen  a  victim  to  his  ingenuousness !  Verily, 
he  is  again  praising  the  merits  of  his  friend.  He  tells  her  how  Kal- 
kreuth saved  his  life — how  he  received  the  blow  meant  for  his  own 
head.  Poor  prince  !  You  will  pay  dearly  for  the  wound  Kalkreuth 
received  for  you.     I  said,  and  I  repeat  it — he  is  lost !" 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  as  if  he  feared  she  had  gone  mad  dur- 
ing his  absence.  "Of  whom  do  you  speak,  Louise?"  whispered  he. 
"What  do  you  mean?  Will  you  not  speak  one  word  of  welcome 
to  me  to  convince  me  that  you  know  me — that  I  have  not  become  a 
stranger  to  you  ?" 

The  princess  now  arose  from  her  seat,  and  leaning  on  her  hus- 
band's arm  she  passed  through  the  room,  talking  merrily  with 
Count  Kalkreuth  at  her  side. 

"  They  have  gone  to  the  conservatory, "  said  Louise,  grasping  her 
husband's  arm.  "  We  will  also  go  and  find  some  quiet,  deserted 
place  where  we  can  talk  undisturbed. " 


CHAPTER    III. 

MOTHER    AND    DAUGHTER, 

Louise  du  Trouffle  drew  her  husband  onward,  and  they  both 
followed  silently  the  great  crowd  which  was  now  entering  the  splen- 
didly illuminated  conservatories.  The  view  offered  to  the  eye  was 
superb.  You  seemed  to  be  suddenly  transplanted  as  if  by  magic 
from  the  stiff,  ceremonious  court-saloons  into  the  fresh,  fi-agrant, 
blooming  world  of  nature.  You  breathed  with  rapture  the  odor  of 
those  rare  and  lovely  flowers  which  were  arranged  in  picturesque 
order  between  the  evergreen  myrtles  and  oranges.  The  windows, 
and  indeed  the  ceiling  were  entirely  covered  with  vines,  and  seemed 
to  give  color  to  the  illusion  that  you  were  really  walking  in  an  open 
alley.  Colored  Chinese  balloons  attached  to  fine  chains,  fell  from 
the  ceiling,  and  seemed  to  float  like  gay  butterflies  between  the  trees 
ftOd  flowers.     They  threw  their  soft,  faint,   many-colored  lights 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  483 

through  these  enclianting  halls,  on  each  side  of  which  little  grottoes 
had  been  formed  by  twining  together  myrtles,  palms,  and  fragrant 
biishes.  Each  one  of  these  held  a  little  grass-plot,  or  green  divan, 
and  these  were  so  arranged  that  the  branches  of  the  palms  were  bent 
down  over  the  seats,  and  concealed  those  who  rested  there  behind 
a  leafy  screen. 

To  one  of  these  grottoes  Louise  now  led  her  husband.  "  We  will 
rest  here  awhile,"  said  she.  "This  grotto  has  one  advantage — it 
lies  at  the  comer  of  the  wall  and  has  but  one  open  side,  and  leafy 
bushes  are  thickly  grouped  about  it.  We  have  no  listeners  to  fear, 
and  may  chat  together  frankly  and  harmlessly.  And  now,  first  of 
all,  welcome,  my  husband — welcome  to  your  home  !" 

"  God  be  thanked,  Louise — God  be  thanked  that  you  have  at  last 
known  how  to  speak  one  earnest  word,  and  welcome  me  to  your 
side !  Believe  me,  when  I  say  that  through  all  these  weary  years, 
each  day  I  have  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  this  moment.  It  has  been 
my  refreshment  and  my  consolation.  I  ti'uly  believe  that  the 
thought  of  you  and  my  ardent  desire  to  see  you  was  a  talisman 
which  kept  death  afar  off.  It  seemed  to  me  impossible  to  die  willi- 
out  seeing  you  once  more.  I  had  a  firm  conviction  that  I  would 
live  through  the  war  and  return  to  you.  Thus  I  defied  the  balls  of 
the  enemy,  and  have  retvirned  to  repose  on  your  heart,  my  beloved 
wife — after  the  storms  and  hardships  of  battle  to  fold  you  fondly  in 
my  arms  and  never  again  to  leave  you. "  He  threw  his  arms  around 
her  waist,  and  pressed  his  lips  with  a  tender  kiss  upon  her 
mouth. 

Louise  suffered  this  display  of  tenderness  for  one  moment,  then 
slipped  lightlj'  under  his  arms  and  retreated  a  few  steps. 

"  Do  you  know, "  said  she,  with  a  low  laugh,  "  that  was  a  true, 
respectable  husband's  kiss ;  without  energy  and  without  fire ;  not 
too  cold,  not  too  warm — the  tepid,  lukewarm  tenderness  of  a  hus- 
band who  really  loves  his  wife,  and  might  be  infatuated  about  her, 
if  she  had  not  the  misfortune  to  be  his  wife?" 

"  Ah  !  you  are  still  the  old  Louise, "  said  the  major  merrily ;  "  still 
the  gay,  coquettish,  unsteady  butterfly,  who,  with  its  bright,  varie- 
gated wings,  knows  how  to  escape,  even  when  fairly  caught  in  the 
toils.  I  love  you  just  as  you  are,  liOuise  ;  I  rejoice  to  find  you  just 
what  I  left  you.  You  will  make  me  young  again,  child  ;  by  your 
side  I  will  learn  again  to  laugh  and  be  happy.  We  have  lost  the 
power  to  do  either  amidst  the  fatigues  and  liardships  of  our  rude 
campaigns. " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Louise;  "we  dismissed  you,  handsome,  well- 
formed  cavaliers,  and  you  return  to  us  clumsy,  growling  bears : 
good-humored  but  savage  pets,  rather  too  willing  to  ieaxn  again  to 


484       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  SIS  FAMILY. 

dance  and  sing.  The  only  question  is,  will  the  women  consent  to 
become  bear-leaders,  and  teach  the  uncultivated  pets  their  steps?" 

"  Well,  they  will  be  obliged  to  do  this, "  said  the  major,  laugh- 
ing.    "  It  is  their  duty. "  v 

"  Dear  friend,  if  you  begin  already  to  remind  us  of  our  duty,  I 
fear  your  cause  is  wholly  lost.  Come,  let  us  sit  here  awhile  upon 
this  grass-plot  and  talk  together." 

"  Yes,  you  will  be  seated,  but  I  do  not  see  exactly  why  we  should 
talk  together.  I  would  much  rather  close  your  laughing,  rosy  lips 
with  kisses. "  He  drew  her  to  his  side,  and  was  about  to  carry  out 
this  purpose,  but  Louise  waved  him  off. 

"  If  you  do  not  sit  perfectly  quiet  by  my  side, "  said  she,  "  I  will 
unfold  the  gay  wings,  of  which  you  have  just  spoken,  and  fly  far 
away !" 

"Well,  then,  I  will  sit  quietly;  but  may  I  not  be  permitted  to 
ask  my  shy  prudish  mistress  why  I  must  do  so?" 

"Why?  Well,  because  I  wish  to  give  my  savage  pet  his  first 
lecture  after  his  return.  The  lecture  begins  thus  :  When  a  man  re- 
mains absent  from  his  wife  seven  years,  he  has  no  right  to  return 
as  a  calm,  confident,  self-assured  husband,  with  his  portion  of  home- 
baked  tenderness ;  he  should  come  timidly,  as  a  tender,  attentive, 
enamoured  cavalier,  who  woos  his  mistress  and  draws  near  to  her 
humbly,  tremblingly,  and  submissively — not  looking  upon  her  as  his 
wife,  but  as  the  fair  lady  whose  love  he  may  hope  to  win. " 

"  But  why,  Louise,  should  we  take  refuge  in  such  dissimulation, 
when  we  are  assured  of  your  love  ?" 

"  You  are  assured  of  nothing  !  How  can  you  be  so  artless  as  to 
believe  that  these  seven  years  have  passed  by  and  left  no  trace,  and 
that  we  feel  exactly  to-day  as  we  did  before  this  fearful  war? 
^Vhen  you  have  opened  the  door  and  given  liberty  to  the  bird  whose 
wings  you  have  cut,  and  whose  wild  heart  you  have  tamed  in  a 
cage :  when  the  captive  flies  out  into  the  fresh,  free  air  of  God, 
floats  men-ily  along  iu  the  midst  of  rejoicing,  laughing  Nature — 
will  he,  after  years  have  passed,  will  he,  if  you  shall  please  to  wish 
once  more  to  imprison  him,  return  willingly  to  his  cage?  I  believe 
you  would  have  to  entice  him  a  long  time— to  whisper  soft,  loving, 
flattering  words,  and  place  in  the  cage  the  rarest  dainties  before  you 
could  induce  him  to  yield  up  his  golden  freedom,  and  to  receive  you 
once  more  as  his  lord  and  master.  But  if  you  seek  to  arrest  him 
with  railing  and  threats — with  wise  and  grave  essays  on  duty  and 
constancy — he  will  swing  himself  on  the  lofty  branch  of  a  tree,  so 
high  that  you  cannot  follow,  and  whistle  at  you  !" 

"  You  are  right,  I  believe, "  said  Du  Trouffle,  thoughtfully.  "  I  see 
to-day  a  new  talent  in  you,  Louise ;  you  have  become  a  philosopher. " 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  485 

"Yes,  and  I  thirst  to  bring  my  wisdom  to  bear  against  a  man," 
said  Louise,  laughingly.  "  I  hope  you  will  profit  by  it !  Perhaps  it 
may  promote  your  happiness,  and  enable  you  to  recapture  your 
bird.  You  will  not  at  least  make  shipwreck  on  the  breakers  against 
which  the  good  prince  dashed  his  head  to-day  :  he  was  wounded  and 
bleeding,  and  will  caiTy  the  mark  upon  his  brow  as  long  as  he 
lives." 

"What  has  he  done  which  justifies  so  melancholy  a  prognosti- 
cation?" 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  He  returned  to  his  wife,  not  as  a  lover  but 
as  a  husband ;  he  did  not  kiss  her  hand  tremblingly  and  humbly 
and  timidly — seek  to  read  in  her  glance  if  she  were  inclined  to  favor 
him  ;  he  advanced  with  the  assurance  of  a  conquering  hero,  and  be- 
fore the  whole  world  he  gave  her  a  loud,  ringing  kiss,  which  re- 
sounded like  the  trump  of  victory.  The  good  prince  thought  that 
because  the  outside  war  was  at  an  end  and  you  had  made  peace  with 
your  enemies,  all  other  strifes  and  diflSculties  had  ceased,  and  you 
had  all  entered  upon  an  epoch  of  everlasting  happiness  ;  that,  by  the 
sides  of  your  fond  and  faithful  wives,  you  had  nothing  to  do  but 
smoke  the  calumet  of  peace.  But  he  made  a  great  and  dangerous 
mistake,  and  he  will  sufl!er  for  it.  I  tell  you,  friend,  the  war  which 
3'ou  have  just  closed  was  less  difficult,  less  alarming  than  the  strife 
which  will  now  be  carried  on  in  your  families.  The  wicked  foe 
has  abandoned  the  battle-field  to  you,  but  he  is  crouched  down  upon 
your  hearths  and  awaits  you  at  the  sides  of  your  wives  and  daugli- 
ters. " 

"  Truly,  Louise,  your  words,  make  me  shudder !  and  my  heart, 
which  was  beating  so  joyfully,  seems  now  to  stand  still. " 

Louise  paid  no  attention  to  his  words,  but  went  on  : 

"  You  say  the  war  is  at  an  end.  I  believe  it  has  just  begun.  It 
will  be  caiTied  on  fiercely  in  every  house,  in  every  family ;  many 
hearts  will  break,  many  wounds  be  given,  and  many  tears  be  shed 
before  we  shall  have  household  peace.  All  those  fond  ties  which 
united  men  and  women,  parents  and  children,  have  been  shaken,  or 
torn  apart ;  all  contracts  are  destroyed  or  undermined.  In  order  to 
endure,  to  live  through  these  fearful  seven  years,  every  one  gave 
himself  up  to  frivolity — the  terrible  consequence  is,  that  the  whole 
world  has  become  light-minded  and  frivolous.  We  do  not  look 
upon  life  with  the  same  eyes  as  formerly.  To  enjoy  the  present 
moment — to  snatch  that  chance  of  happiness  from  the  fleeting  hour, 
which  the  next  hour  is  chasing  and  may  utterly  destroy— seems  the 
only  aim.  Love  is  an  amusement,  constancy  a  phantom,  in  which 
no  one  believes — which  is  only  spoken  of  in  nursery  fairy  tales. 
Tfee  wpineii  bavQ  learned,  hy  experience,  that  tlieir  hiisbands  ^^ 


486       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

lovers  did  not  die  of  longing  to  see  them ;  that  they  themselves, 
after  the  tears  of  separation,  which  perhaps  flowed  freely  a  long 
time,  were  once  quenched,  could  live  on  alone  ;  that  independence 
had  its  bright  side  and  was  both  agreeable  and  comfortable.  The 
history  of  the  widow  of  Ephesus  is  repeated  every  day,  my  friend. 
The  women  wept  and  were  melancholy  a  long  time  after  the  separa- 
tion from  their  husbands,  but  at  last  they  could  not  close  their  ears 
to  the  sweet,  soft  words  of  consolation  which  were  whispered  to 
them ;  at  last  they  realized  that  incessant  weeping  and  mourning 
had  its  wearisome  and  monotonous  side,  that  the  dreary  time  flew 
more  swiftly  if  they  sought  to  amuse  themselves  and  be  happy. 
They  allowed  themselves  to  be  comforted,  in  the  absence  of  their 
husbands,  by  their  lovers,  and  they  felt  no  reproach  of  conscience  ; 
for  they  were  convinced  that  their  truant  husbands  were  doing  the 
same  thing  in  their  long  separation — were  making  love  to  'the  lips 
that  were  near. ' " 

"Did  you  think  and  act  thus,  Louise?"  said  Major  du  Trotiffle,  in 
a  sad  and  anxious  tone,  looking  his  wife  firmly  in  the  eye. 

Louisa  laughed  with  calm  and  unconcern. 

"My  friend,"  said  she,  "would  I  have  told  all  this  to  you,  if  I 
had  committed  the  faults  I  charge  upon  others?  I  have  been  inac- 
tive but  observant ;  that  has  been  my  amusement,  my  only  distrac- 
tion, and  my  observations  have  filled  me  with  amazement  and 
abhorrence.  I  have  drawn  from  these  sources  profound  and  philo- 
sophic lessons.  I  have  studied  mankind,  and  with  full  conviction  I 
can  assure  you  the  war  is  not  at  an  end,  and,  instead  of  the  palm  of 
peace,  the  apple  of  discord  will  flourish.  Men  no  longer  believe  in 
constancy  or  honesty,  every  man  suspects  his  neighbor  and  holds 
him  guilty,  even  as  he  knows  himself  to  be  guilty.  Every  woman 
watches  the  conduct  of  other  women  with  malicious  curiosity  ;  she 
seems  to  herself  less  guilty  when  she  finds  that  others  are  no  better 
than  herself  ;  and  when,  unhappily,  she  does  not  find  that  her  friend 
is  false  or  faithless,  she  will  try  to  make  her  appear  so ;  if  the  truth 
will  not  serve  her  purpose,  she  will,  by  slander  and  scandal,  draw 
a  veil  over  her  own  sins.  Never  was  there  as  much  treachery  and 
crime  as  now.  Calumny  stands  before  every  door,  and  will  whisper 
such  evil  and  fearful  things  in  the  ears  of  every  returned  soldier, 
that  he  will  become  wild  with  rage,  and  distrust  his  wife,  no  matter 
how  innocent  she  may  be. " 

"  I  shall  not  be  guilty  of  this  fault, "  said  Major  du  Trouffle.  "  If 
I  find  slander  lying  in  wait  at  my  door,  I  will  kick  it  from  me  and 
enter  my  home  calmly  and  smilingly,  without  having  listened  to 
her  whispers,  or,  if  I  have  heard  them  involuutarily,  without  be* 
lieving  them." 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  487 

"Then  there  will  be  at  least  one  house  in  Berlin  where  peace  will 
reign,"  said  Louise,  sweetly,  "and  that  house  will  be  ours.  I  wel- 
come you  in  the  name  of  our  lares,  who  have  been  long  joyfully 
awaiting  you.     I  have  also  an  agreeable  surprise  for  you. " 

"What  surprise,  Louise?" 

"  You  often  told  me  that  my  daughter  Camilla  disturbed  your 
happiness,  that  she  stood  like  a  dark  cloud  over  my  past,  which  had 
not  belonged  to  you. " 

"  It  is  true  1  I  could  not  force  my  heart  to  love  her ;  her  presence 
reminded  me  always  that  you  had  been  loved  by  another,  had  be- 
longed to  another,  and  had  been  made  thoroughly  wretched. " 

"Well  then,  friend,  this  cloud  has  been  lifted  up,  and  this  is  the 
surprise  which  awaited  your  return  home.  Camilla  has  been  mar- 
ried more  than  a  year. " 

"Married!"  cried  the  major,  joyfully;  "who  is  the  happy  man 
that  has  undertaken  to  tame  this  wilful  child,  and  warm  her  cold 
heart?" 

"Ask  rather,  who  is  the  unhappy  man  who  was  enamoured  with 
this  lovely  face,  and  has  taken  a  demon  for  an  angel?"  sighed 
Louise.  "  He  is  a  young,  distinguished,  and  wealthy  Englishman, 
Lord  Elliot,  an  attache  of  the  English  embassy,  who  fulfilled  the 
duties  of  minister  during  the  absence  of  the  ambassador.  Lord 
Mitchel,  who  was  generally  at  the  headquarters  of  the  king." 

"And  Camilla,  did  she  love  him?" 

Louise  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  When  he  made  his  proposals,  she  declared  herself  ready  to  marry 
him  ;  but,  I  believe,  his  presence  was  less  agreeable  and  interesting 
to  her  than  the  splendid  gifts  he  daily  brought  her. " 

"But,  Louise,  it  was  her  free  choice  to  marry  him?  You  did  not 
pei^suade  her?  you  did  not,  I  hope,  in  order  to  humor  my  weakness, 
induce  her  by  entreaties  and  representations  to  marry  against  her 
wiU?" 

"My  friend,"  said  Louise,  with  the  proud  air  of  an  injured 
mother,  "however  fondly  I  may  have  loved  you,  I  would  not  have 
sacrificed  for  you  the  happiness  of  an  only  child.  Camilla  asked 
my  consent  to  her  marriage  after  she  had  obtained  her  father's  per- 
mission, and  I  gave  it.  The  marriage  took  place  three  days  after 
the  engagement,  and  the  young  pair  made  a  bridal-trip  to  England, 
from  which  they  returned  a  few  months  since." 

"And  where  are  they  now?" 

"  They  live  in  Berlin  in  an  enchanting  villa,  which  Lord  Elliot 
has  converted  into  a  palace  for  his  young  wife.  You  will  see  them 
this  evening,  for  they  ai-e  both  here,  and — " 

Louise  ceased  to  speak;  a  well-known    voice  interrupted  the 


488        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

silence,  and  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  "  Ah, "  whispered  she,  lightly, 
"  the  proverb  is  fulfilled,  'Speak  of  the  wolf,  and  he  appears. '  That 
is  Lord  Elliot  and  Camilla  speaking  with  such  animation.  Let  us 
listen  awhile." 

The  youthful  pair  had  now  drawn  near,  and  stood  just  before  the 
grotto. 

"  I  find  it  cruel,  very  cruel,  to  deny  me  every  innocent  pleasure, " 
said  Camilla,  with  a  harsh,  displeased  voice.  "I  must  live  like  a 
nun  who  has  taken  an  eternal  vow  ;  I  am  weary  of  it. " 

"  Oh,  my  Camilla,  you  slander  yourself  when  you  say  this ;  you 
are  not  well,  and  you  must  be  prudent.  I  know  you  better  than  you 
know  yourself,  my  Camilla.  Your  heart,  which  is  clear  and  trans- 
parent as  crystal,  lies  ever  unveiled  before  me,  and  I  listen  with 
devout  love  to  its  every  pulse.  I  am  sure  that  you  do  not  wish  to 
dance  to-day,  my  love. " 

"I  wish  to  dance,  and  I  will  dance, because  it  gives  me  pleasure." 

"  Because  you  are  like  a  sweet  child  and  like  the  angels, "  said 
Lord  Elliot,  eagerly ;  "  your  heart  is  gay  and  innocent.  You  are 
like  a  fluttering  Cupid,  sleeping  in  flower-cups  and  dreaming  of 
stars  and  golden  sunshine ;  you  know  nothing  of  earthly  and  pro- 
saic thoughts.  I  must  bind  your  wings,  my  beauteous  butterfly, 
and  hold  you  down  in  the  dust  of  this  poor,  pitiful  world.  Wait, 
only  wait  till  you  are  well ;  when  your  health  is  restored,  you  shall 
be  richly  repaid  for  all  your  present  self-denial.  Every  day  I  will 
procure  you  new  pleasures,  prepare  you  new  fites ;  you  shall  dance 
upon  carpets  of  roses  like  an  elfin  queen. " 

"You  promise  me  that?"  said  Camilla;  "you  promise  me  that 
you  will  not  prevent  my  dancing  as  much  and  as  gayly  as  I  like?" 

"I  promise  you  all  this,  Camilla,  if  you  will  only  not  dance 
now. " 

"Well,"  sighed  she,  "I  agree  to  this  ;  but  I  fear  that  my  cousin, 
Count  Kindar,  will  be  seriously  displeased  if  I  suddenly  refuse  him 
the  dance  I  promised  him. " 

"He  will  excuse  you,  sweetheart,  when  I  beg  him  to  do  so," 
said  Lord  Elliot,  with  a  soft  smile.  "I  will  seek  him  at  once,  and 
make  your  excuses.  Be  kind  enough  to  wait  for  me  here,  I  will 
return  immediately."  He  kissed  her  fondly  upon  the  brow,  and 
hastened  off. 

Camilla  looked  after  him  and  sighed  deeply ;  then,  drawing 
back  the  long  leaves  of  the  palm,  she  entered  the  grotto  ;  she  stepped 
hastily  back  when  she  saw  that  the  green  divan  was  occupied,  and 
tried  to  withdraw,  but  her  mother  held  her  and  greeted  her  kindly. 

Camilla  laughed  aloud.  "Ah,  mother,  it  appears  as  if  I  am  to 
be  ever  in  your  way  ;  although  I  no  longer  dwell  in  your  house,  I 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  489 

still  disturb  your  pleasures.  But  I  am  discreet ;  let  your  friend 
withdraw  ;  I  will  not  see  him  ;  I  will  not  know  his  name,  and  when 
my  most  virtuous  husband  returns,  he  will  find  only  two  modest 
gentlewomen.     Go,  sir  ;  I  will  turn  away,  that  I  may  not  see  you. " 

"  I  rather  entreat  you,  my  dear  Camilla,  to  turn  your  lovely  face 
toward  me,  and  to  greet  me  kindly, "  said  Major  du  Trouffle,  step- 
ping from  behind  the  shadow  of  the  palm,  and  giving  his  hand  to 
Camilla. 

She  gazed  at  him  questioningly,  and  when  at  last  she  recognized 
him,  she  burst  out  into  a  meny  peal  of  laughter.  "Truly,"  said 
she,  "my  mother  had  a  rendezvous  with  her  husband,  and  I  have 
disturbed  an  enchanting  marriage  chirping.  You  have  also  listened 
to  my  raanied  chirp,  and  know  all  my  secrets.  Well,  what  do  you 
say,  dear  stepfather,  to  my  mother  having  bi'ought  me  so  soon  under 
the  coif,  and  made  her  wild,  foolish  little  Camilla  the  wife  of  a 
lord?" 

"I  wish  you  happiness  with  my  whole  soul,  dear  Camilla,  and 
rejoice  to  hear  from  your  mother  that  you  have  made  so  excellent  a 
choice,  and  are  the  wife  of  so  amiable  and  intellectual  a  man." 

"So,  does  mamma  say  that  Lord  Elliot  is  all  that?  She  may  be 
right,  I  don't  understand  these  things.  I  know  only  that  I  find  his 
lordship  unspeakably  wearisome,  that  I  do  not  understand  a  word  of 
his  intellectual  essays,  though  my  lord  declares  that  I  know  eveiy 
thing,  that  I  understand  every  thing,  and  have  a  most  profound  in- 
tellect. Ah,  dear  stepfather,  it  is  a  terrible  misfortune  to  be  so 
adored  and  worshipped  as  I  am  ;  I  am  supposed  to  be  an  angel,  who 
by  some  rare  accident  has  fallen  upon  the  earth. " 

"Truly  a  misfortune,  for  which  all  other  women  would  envy 
you, "  said  the  major,  laughing. 

"Then  they  would  make  a  great  mistake,"  sighed  Camilla.  "I 
for  my  part  am  weary  of  this  homage ;  I  have  no  desire  to  be,  I  will 
not  consent  to  be  an  angel ;  I  wish  only  to  be  a  beautiful,  rich  young 
woman  and  to  enjoy  my  life.  Do  what  I  will,  my  husband  looks  at 
every  act  of  folly  from  an  ideal  stand-point,  and  finds  thus  new 
material  for  worship  ;  he  will  force  me  at  last  to  some  wild,  insane 
act  in  order  to  convince  him  that  I  am  no  angel,  but  a  weak  child 
of  earth. " 

"  You  were  almost  in  the  act  of  committing  such  a  folly  this  even- 
ing, "  said  her  mother,  sternly. 

"  Ah,  you  mean  that  I  wished  to  dance.  But  only  think,  mamma, 
with  whom  I  wished  to  dance,  with  my  cousin,  whom  all  the  world 
calls  'the  handsome  Kindar, '  and  who  dances  so  gloriously,  that  it 
is  a  delight  to  see  him,  and  bliss  to  float  about  with  him.  He  only 
returned  this  evening,  and  he  came  at  once  to  me  and  greeted  me  so 
82 


490       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

lovingly,  so  tenderly ;  you  know,  mamma,  we  have  always  loved 
each  other  fondly.  When  I  told  him  I  was  married,  he  turned  pale 
and  looked  at  me  so  sorrowfully,  and  tears  were  in  his  eyes.  Oh, 
mamma,  why  was  I  obliged  to  wed  Lord  Elliot,  who  is  so  grave,  so 
wise,  so  learned,  so  virtuous,  and  with  whom  it  is  ever  wearisome? 
Why  did  you  not  let  me  wait  till  Kindar  returned,  who  is  so  hand- 
some, so  gay,  so  ignorant,  before  whom  I  should  never  liave  been 
forced  to  blush,  no  matter  how  foolish  I  had  been,  and  with  whom 
1  should  never  have  been  weary  ?" 

"  But  how  did  you  know  that  the  handsome  Kindar  wished  to 
marry  you?"  said  Louise,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  I  knew  it  well ;  he  has  often  told  me  so,  even 
when  I  was  a  little  girl  and  he  was  a  cadet.  This  dreadful  war  is 
the  cause  of  all  my  misery ;  it  led  to  his  promotion,  then  he  must 
join  his  regiment ;  then,  alas !  I  must  marry  another  before  his 
return. " 

"  Yes,  but  a  noble,  intellectual,  and  honorable  cavalier,  who  does 
honor  to  your  choice, "  said  Du  Trouffle. 

"  Lord  Elliot  has  red  hair,  squints  with  both  eyes,  and  is  so  long 
and  meagre  that  he  looks  more  like  an  exclamation-point  than  a 
man.  When  he  appears  before  me  in  his  yellow-gray  riding  cos- 
tume, I  am  always  reminded  of  the  great  windsjteil  you  gave  me 
once,  stepfather,  who  had  such  long,  high  legs,  I  used  to  creep  imder 
them  ;  and  when  he  lies  like  a  windspeil  at  my  feet,  and  squints  at 
me,  his  eyes  seem  tied  up  in  knots,  and  I  never  know  if  he  is  really 
looking  at  me,  or  is  about  to  fall  into  a  swoon.  Now,  stepfather, 
do  you  not  find  that  Lord  Elliot  does  honor  to  mj'  taste  ?" 

"  Certainly,  and  all  the  more  because  your  choice  proves  that  you 
appreciate  the  true  dignity  and  beauty  of  a  man,  and  his  outward 
appearance  seems  to  you  comparatively  insignificant. " 

"  Alas,  alas !  now  you  begin  also  to  attribute  noble  and  exalted 
motives  to  me, "  said  Camilla  pathetically.  "  No,  no,  stepfather,  I 
am  not  so  sublime  as  you  think,  and  I  should  not  have  married 
Lord  Elliot  if  mamma  and  myself  had  not  both  indulged  the  ardent 
wish  to  be  released  from  each  other.  Mamma  is  too  young  and  too 
beautiful  to  be  willing  to  have  a  grown-up  daughter  who  is  not  ugly 
by  her  side,  and  I  was  too  old  to  be  locked  up  any  longer  in  tlie 
nursery,  so  I  stepped  literally  from  the  nursery  to  the  altar,  and 
became  the  wife  of  Lord  Elliot ;  so  mamma  and  myself  were  freed 
from  the  presence  of  each  other,  and  I  thought  that  a  time  of  joy 
and  liberty  would  bloom  for  me.  But,  alas,  I  have  only  changed 
my  cage  ;  formerly  I  was  confined  in  a  nursery,  now  my  prison  is  a 
temple,  because  my  husband  says  I  am  too  elevated,  too  angelic  to 
eome  in  contact  with  the  pitiful  world.     Ah,  I  long  so  for  the  world  , 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  491 

I  am  so  thirsty  for  its  pleasures,  I  would  so  gladly  take  full  draughts 
of  joy  from  its  golden  cup !  My  husband  comes  and  offers  me  a 
crystal  shell,  filled  with  heavenly  dew  and  ether  dust,  which  is,  I 
suppose,  angels'  food,  but  he  does  not  remark  that  I  am  hungering 
and  thirsting  to  death.  Like  King  Midas,  before  whose  thii*sty  lips 
every  thing  turned  to  gold,  and  who  was  starving  in  the  midst  of 
all  his  glory,  I  beseech  you,  stepfather,  undertake  the  role  of  the 
barber,  bore  a  hole  and  cry  out  in  it  that  I  have  ass's  ears — ears  as 
long  as  those  of  King  JVlidas.  Perhaps  the  rushes  would  grow  again 
and  make  known  to  my  lord  the  simple  fact,  which  up  to  this  time 
he  refuses  to  believe,  that  I  am  indeed  no  angel,  and  he  would  cease 
to  worship  me,  and  allow  me  to  be  gay  and  happy  upon  the  earth 
like  every  other  woman.  But  come,  come,  stepfather,  I  hear  the 
earnest  voice  of  my  husband  in  conversation  with  my  merry,  hand- 
some cousin.  Let  us  go  to  meet  them,  and  grant  me  the  pleasure  of 
introducing  Lord  Elliot  to  you — not  here,  but  in  the  brilliantly- 
lighted  saloon.  Afterward  I  will  ask  you,  on  your  word  of  honor, 
if  you  still  find  I  have  made  a  happy  choice,  and  if  my  windspeil  of 
a  husband  is  of  more  value  than  my  handsome  cousin  ?" 

She  took  the  arm  of  the  major  with  a  gay  smile,  and  tried  to 
draw  him  forward. 

"  But  your  mother, "  said  Du  Trouffle,  "you  forget  your  mother?" 

"  Listen  now,  mamma,  how  cruel  he  is,  always  reminding  you 
that  you  are  my  mother ;  that  is  as  much  as  to  say  to  you,  in  other 
words,  that  you  will  soon  be  a  grandmother.  Mamma,  I  could  die 
of  laughter  to  think  of  you  as  a  grandmother.  I  assure  you,  mam- 
ma, that  in  the  midst  of  all  my  sorrows  and  disappointments  this 
thought  is  the  only  thing  which  diverts  and  delights  me.  Only 
think,  I  shall  soon  make  you  a  worthy  grandmother.  Say  now, 
grandmother,  will  you  come  with  us?" 

"  No,  I  will  remain  here,  your  gayety  has  made  me  sad — I  do  not 
feel  fit  for  society.  I  will  await  my  husband  here,  and  we  will 
return  to  Berlin. " 

"Adieu,  then,  mamma,"  said  Camilla,  rapidly  drawing  the 
major  onward. 

Louise  du  Trouffle  remained  alone  in  the  grotto ;  she  leaned  her 
head  against  the  palm-tree,  and  looked  sorrowfully  after  the  retreat- 
ing form  of  her  daughter.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a  shudder  passed 
through  her  soul ;  that  a  cold,  dead  hand  was  laid  upon  her  heart, 
as  if  a  phantom  pressed  against  her,  and  a  voice  whispered :  "  This 
is  thy  work.  Oh,  mother  worthy  of  execration,  you  alone  have 
caused  the  destruction  of  your  daughter ;  through  you  that  soul  is 
lost,  which  God  intrusted  to  you,  and  which  was  endowed  with  the 
germ  of  gre3,t  and  noble  qualities.    It  w^s  your  duty  to  cpurisb  ftud 


493        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

build  them  up.  God  will  one  day  call  you  to  account,  and  ask  this 
precious  soul  of  you,  which  you  have  poisoned  by  your  evil  exani - 
pie,  which  is  lost — lost  through  you  alone. " 

Louise  shuddered  fearfully,  then  rousing  herself  she  tried  to  shake 
ofif  these  fearful  thoughts,  and  free  herself  from  the  stem  voices 
which  mastered  her.  They  had  so  often  spoken,  so  often  awaked  her 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  driven  sleep  from  her  couch,  and  tortured 
her  conscience  with  bitter  reproaches  I 

Louise  knew  well  this  gray  phantom  which  was  ever  behind  her 
or  at  her  side  ;  ever  staring  at  her  with  dark  and  deadly  earnestness, 
even  in  the  midst  of  her  mirth  and  joyousness  ;  the  harsh  voice  was 
often  BO  loud  that  Louise  was  bewildered  by  it,  and  could  not  hear 
the  ring  of  joy  and  rapture  which  surrounded  her.  She  knew  that 
this  pale  spectre  was  conscience ;  press  it  down  as  she  would,  the 
busy  devil  was  ever  mounting,  mounting.  But  she  would  not  listen, 
she  rushed  madly  on  after  new  distractions,  new  pleasures;  she 
quenched  the  warning  voice  under  shouts  of  mirth  and  levity ;  she 
threw  herself  in  the  arms  of  folly  and  worldly  pleasures,  and  then 
for  long  months  she  escaped  this  threatening  phantom,  which,  with 
raised  finger,  stood  behind  her,  which  seemed  to  chase  her,  and 
from  which  she  ever  fled  to  new  sins  and  new  guilt.  Sometimes 
she  had  a  feeling  as  if  Death  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  turned  her 
round  in  a  wild  and  rapid  dance,  not  regarding  her  prayers,  or  her 
panting,  gasping  breath ;  she  would,  oh  how  gladly,  have  rested ; 
gladly  have  laid  down  in  some  dark  and  quiet  corner,  away  from 
this  wild  gayety.  But  she  could  not  escape  from  those  mysterious 
arms  which  held  her  captive  in  their  iron  clasp,  which  rushed  on- 
ward with  her  in  the  death-dance  of  sin.  She  must  go  onward,  ever 
onward,  in  this  career,of  vice ;  she  must  ever  again  seek  intoxica- 
tion in  the  opium  of  sin,  to  save  herself  from  the  barren,  colorless 
nothingness  which  awaited  her ;  from  that  woi"st  of  all  evils,  the 
weariness  with  which  the  old  coquette  paints  the  terrible  future,  in 
which  even  she  can  no  longer  please  ;  in  which  old  age  with  a  cruel 
hand  sweeps  away  the  flowerc  from  the  hair  and  the  crimson  from 
the  cheek,  and  points  out  to  the  mocking  world  the  wrinkles  on  the 
brow  and  the  ashes  in  the  hair. 

"It  is  cold  here,"  said  Louise,  shuddering,  and  springing  up 
quickly  from  the  grass-plot— " it  is  cold  here,  and  lonely;  I  will 
return  to  the  saloon.     Perhaps — " 

Hasty  steps  drew  near,  and  a  voice  whispered  her  name.  Ma- 
dame du  Trouflfle  drew  back,  and  a  glowing  blush  suffused  her 
cheek,  and  as  she  advanced  from  the  grotto  she  was  again  the  gay, 
imperious  coquette — the  beautiful  woman,  with  the  cloudless  brow 
ao^  the  sparkling  eyes,  which  seemed  never  to  bftv^  bees  Q^^t' 


THE  KING  IN  SANS-SOUCl.  493 

shadowed  by  tears.  The  conscience-stricken,  self-accusing  mother 
was  again  the  worldly-wise  coquette. 

Her  name  was  called  the  second  time,  and  her  heart  trembled, 
she  knew  not  if  with  joy  or  horror. 

"For  God's  sake,  why  have  you  dared  to  seek  me  here?  Do  you 
not  know  that  my  husband  may  return  at  any  moment?" 

"  Your  husband  is  entertaining  Prince  Henry  while  the  princess 
dances  the  first  waltz  with  Coimt  Kalkreuth.  All  the  world  is  danc- 
ing, playing,  and  chatting,  and,  while  looking  at  the  prince  and 
princess,  have  for  one  moment  forgotten  the  beautiful  Louise  du 
Trouffle.  I  alone  could  not  do  this,  and  as  I  learned  from  Lady 
Elliot  that  you  were  here,  I  dared  to  follow  you,  and  seek  in  one 
glance  a  compensation  for  what  I  have  endured  this  day.  Ah,  tell 
nie,  worshipped  lady,  must  I  be  forever  banished  from  your  presence. " 

The  words  of  the  young  man  would  have  seemed  insincere  and 
artificial  to  every  unprejudiced  ear,  but  they  filled  the  heart  of  the 
vain  Louise  du  Trouffle  with  joy  ;  they  convinced  her  that  she  was 
yet  beautiful  enough  to  excite  admiration. 

"  All  will  be  well,  Emil, "  said  she ;  "  I  have  convinced  my  hus- 
band that  I  am  wise  as  Cato  and  vii-tuous  as  Lucretia.  He  believes 
in  me,  and  will  cast  all  slander  from  his  door.  Remain  here,  and 
let  me  return  alone  to  the  saloon.     Au  revoir,  moa  ami. " 

She  threw  him  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her  rosy  fingers,  and 
hastened  away. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    KING    IN    SANS-SOUCI. 

The  ceremonies  and  festivities  of  the  reception  were  ended. 
The  king  could  at  length  indulge  himself  in  that  quiet  and  repose 
which  he  had  so  long  vainly  desired..  At  length,  he  who  had  lived 
so  many  years  to  perform  the  duties  of  a  king,  who  had  in  reality 
lived  for  his  country,  might  after  so  many  cares  and  sorrows  seek 
repose.  The  warrior  and  hero  might  once  more  become  the  philoso- 
pher ;  might  once  more  enjoy  with  his  friends  the  pleasure  of  science 
and  art. 

The  king  entered  the  carriage  which  was  to  bear  him  to  Sans- 
Souci  witli  a  beaming  countenance — his  deeply-loved  Sans-Souci, 
which  had  seemed  a  golden  dream  to  him  during  the  dreaiy  years 
of  the  war — a  bright  goal  before  him,  of  which  it  consoled  and 
strengthened  him  even  to  think.  Now  he  would  again  behold  it ; 
now  he  would  again  enter  those  beautiful  rooms,  and  the  past  would 
once  more  become  a  reality. 


494       rHEDERICIt  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

He  seemed  enraptured  with  the  road  which  led  him  to  Sans- 
Souci.  Every  tree,  every  stone  appeared  to  welcome  him,  and 
when  the  palace  became  visible,  he  was  entirely  overcome  by  his 
emotions,  and  sank  back  in  his  carriage  with  closed  eyes. 

The  Marquis  d'Argens,  however,  the  only  one  who  had  been 
allowed  to  accompany  the  king  in  this  drive,  sprang  from  his  seat, 
and  waving  his  hat  in  greeting,  exclaimed  : 

"I  greet  you,  Sans-Souci,  you  temple  of  wisdom  and  happiness  I 
Open  wide  your  portals,  for  your  lord  is  returning  to  you.  Let  your 
walls  resound  as  did  Memnon's  pillar,  when  the  sun's  rays  first 
greeted  it,  after  a  long  night.  Your  night  is  passed,  Sans-Souci ; 
you  will  be  again  warmed  by  the  sunbeams  from  your  master's 
eyes !" 

The  king  smilingly  drew  his  enthusiastic  friend  back  to  his  seat. 

"  You  are,  and  always  will  be  a  child — an  overgrown  child. " 

"Sire,"  said  D'Argens,  "that  is  because  I  am  pious.  It  is  writ- 
ten, 'If  you  do  not  become  as  little  children  you  cannot  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven!'  Now,  Sans-Souci  is  my  kingdom!  I  have 
become  as  the  children,  that  I  might  be  received  at  the  side  of  my 
king,  and  begin  once  more  the  days  of  happiness. " 

The  king  gently  shook  his  head.  "Oh,  I  fear,  my  friend,  that 
the  days  of  happiness  will  not  recommence ;  the  sun  which  once 
illumined  Sans-Souci  has  set.  Our  lips  have  forgotten  how  to 
smile,  and  joy  is  dead  in  our  hearts.  How  many  illusions,  how 
many  hopes  and  wishes  I  still  indulged,  when  I  last  descended  the 
steps  of  Sans-Souci ;  how  poor,  and  weak,  and  depressed  I  shall  feel 
in  ascending  them !" 

"What?  your  majesty  poor!  You  who  return  so  rich  in  fame, 
crowned  with  imperishable  laurels?" 

"Ah,  marquis,  these  laurels  are  bathed  in  blood,  and  paid  for 
bitterly  and  painfully  with  the  lives  of  many  thousands  of  my  sub- 
jects. The  wounds  are  still  gaping  which  my  land  received  during 
the  war,  and  they  will  require  long  years  to  heal.  Do  not  speak  to 
me  of  my  laurels ;  fame  is  but  cold  and  sorrowful  food  !  In  order  to 
prize  fame,  one  should  lay  great  weight  on  the  judgment  of  men  ; 
I  have  lost  all  faith  in  them.  Too  many  bitter  experiences  have  at 
length  destroyed  my  faith  and  confidence.  I  can  no  longer  love 
mankind,  for  I  have  ever  found  them  small,  miserable,  and  crafty. 
Those  for  whom  I  have  done  most  have  betrayed  and  deceived  me 
the  most  deeply.  Think  of  Chafgotch,  he  whom  I  called  friend, 
and  who  betrayed  me  in  the  hour  of  danger !  Remember  Warkoteh, 
whom  I  preferred  to  so  many  others,  whom  T  overloaded  with  proofs 
of  my  love,  and  who  wished  to  betray  and  murder  me !  Think  of 
the  many  attempts  against  my  life,  which  were  always  undertaken 


THE  KING  IN  SANS-SOUCI  495 

by  those  whom  I  had  trusted  and  benefited  !    Think  of  these  things, 
marquis,  and  then  tell  me  if  I  should  still  love  and  trust  mankind  !" 

"  It  is  true,  sire, "  said  the  marquis,  sadly ;  "  your  majesty  has 
had  a  wretched  experience,  and  mankind  must  appear  small  to  you, 
who  are  yourself  so  great.  The  eagle  which  soars  proudly  toward 
the  sun,  must  think  the  world  smaller  and  smaller,  the  higher  he 
soars ;  the  objects  which  delight  us  poor  earth-worms,  who  are 
grovelling  in  the  dust,  and  mistake  an  atom  floating  in  the  sun- 
shine for  the  sun  itself,  must  indeed  appear  insignificant  to  you. " 

"  Do  not  flatter  me,  marquis !  Let  us,  when  together,  hear  a 
little  of  that  truth  which  is  so  seldom  heard  among  men,  and  of 
which  the  name  is  scarcely  known  to  kings.  You  flattered  me,  be- 
cause you  had  not  the  courage  to  answer  my  question  concerning 
the  unworthiness  of  mankind,  when  I  said  I  could  no  longer  love  or 
trust  them  I  You  feel,  however,  that  I  am  right,  and  you  will  know 
how  to  pardon  me,  when  I  appear  to  the  world  as  a  cold,  hard- 
hearted egotist.  It  is  true  my  heart  has  become  hardened  in  the 
fire  of  many  and  deep  sufferings !  I  loved  mankind  very  dearly, 
marquis ;  perhaps  that  is  the  reason  I  now  despise  them  so  intensely  ; 
because  I  know  they  are  not  worthy  of  my  love  I" 

"  But,  sire,  you  love  them  still ;  for  your  heart  is  possessed  of 
that  Godlike  quality — mercy — which  overlooks  and  pardons  the  faults 
and  failings  of  mankind.  Intolerance  is  not  in  the  nature  of  my 
king,  and  forgiveness  and  mercy  are  ever  on  his  lips. " 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  verify  your  words,  dear  friend, "  said  the 
king,  offering  D'Argens  his  hand.  "And  should  I  not  succeed,  you 
must  forgive  me,  and  remember  how  deeply  I  have  suffered,  and 
that  my  heart  is  hardened  by  the  scars  of  old  wounds.  But  I  will 
indulge  such  sad  thoughts  no  longer.  Only  look  how  Sans-Souci 
gleams  before  us !  Every  window  which  glitters  in  the  sunlight 
seems  to  greet  me  with  shining  eyes,  and  the  whispering  leaves 
appear  to  bid  me  welcome.  There  are  the  windows  of  my  library, 
and  behind  them  await  the  great  spirits  of  my  immortal  friends, 
who  look  at  me  and  shake  their  gray  heads  at  the  weak  child  who 
has  returned  to  them  old  and  bowed  down.  Caesar  looks  smilingly 
at  the  laurels  I  have  brought,  and  Virgil  shakes  his  curly  locks,  and 
lightly  hums  one  of  his  divine  songs,  which  are  greater  than  all  my 
victories.  Come,  marquis,  come !  we  will  go,  in  all  modesty  and 
humility  to  these  gifted  spirits,  and  entreat  them  not  to  despise  us, 
because  we  are  so  unlike  them. " 

As  the  carriage  reached  the  lowest  terrace,  Frederick  sprang  out 
with  the  elasticity  of  youth,  and  began  to  ascend  the  steps  so  lightly 
and  rapidly,  that  the  marquis  could  scarcely  follow  him. 

From  ^ime  to  time  the  king  stood  still,  and  gazed  aroupd  bijp, 


496        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

and  then  a  bright  smile  illumined  his  countenance,  and  his  eyes 
beamed  with  pleasure.  Then  hastening  onward,  he  turned  his  head 
toward  the  house  that  looked  so  still  and  peaceful,  and  seemed, 
with  its  open  doors,  ready  to  welcome  him. 

At  length,  having  reached  the  summit,  he  turned  once  more 
with  beamiDg  eyes  to  look  at  the  lovely  landscape  which  was  spread 
before  him  in  smiling  luxuriousness.  He  then  hastily  entered  the 
house  and  the  beautiful  room  in  which  he  had  spent  so  many  gay 
and  happy  hours  with  his  friends.  Now  his  footsteps  echoed  in  the 
lonely  room,  and  none  of  his  friends  were  there  to  welcome  the 
returning  king— none  but  D' Argens,  the  dearest,  the  most  faithful 
of  all. 

The  king  now  turned  to  him,  and  a  shadow  overspread  his  coun- 
tenance, which  had  been  so  bright, 

" D' Argens, "  he  said,  "we  are  very  poor  ;  the  most  of  our  friends 
have  left  us  foruver.  The  prior  of  Sans-Souci  has  returned,  but  his 
monks  have  all  left  him  but  you,  marquis  !" 

"  Does  your  majesty  forget  my  Lord  Marshal,  the  most  amiable 
and  intellectual  of  your  monks  ?  It  needs  but  a  sign  from  his  beloved 
prior  to  recall  him  from  Neufchatel !" 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  king,  smiling;  "I  am  not  so  deserted  as  I 
thought.  Lord  Marshal  must  return  to  us,  and  he  must  live  here  in 
Sans-Souci,  as  you  will,  I  must  surround  myself  with  those  who 
deserve  my  confidence ;  perhaps,  then,  I  can  forget  how  bitterly  I 
have  been  deceived  by  others.  Come,  marquis,  give  me  your  arm, 
and  we  will  make  a  tour  of  these  rooms. " 

He  placed  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  marquis,  and  they 
passed  through  the  silent,  deserted  rooms,  which  seemed  to  greet 
the  king  with  a  thousand  remembrances.  Perhaps  it  was  that  he 
might  the  more  distinctly  hear  the  whispers  of  memory  that  be  had 
commanded  that  no  one  should  receive  him  in  Sans-Souci,  that  no 
servant  should  appear  imtil  called  for.  Without  noise  or  ceremony, 
he  desired  to  take  possession  of  this  house,  in  which  he  had  not  been 
the  king,  but  the  philosopher  and  poet.  He  wished  to  return  here, 
at  least,  as  if  he  had  only  yesterday  left  the  house.  But  the  seven 
years  of  care  and  sorrow  went  with  him ;  they  crept  behind  him 
into  these  silent,  deserted  halls.  He  recognized  them  in  the  faded 
furniture,  in  the  dusty  walls,  and  in  the  darkened  pictures.  They 
were  not  merely  around,  but  within  him,  and  he  again  felt  how 
utterly  he  had  changed  in  these  years. 

As  they  entered  the  room  which  Voltaire  had  occupied,  Fred- 
erick's countenance  was  again  brightened  by  a  smile,  while  that 
of  the  marquis  assumed  a  dark  and  indignant  expression. 

"^,  marquis,  I  see  from  jy^our  countenance  that  jou  ^.r©  ^ 


THE  KING  IN  SANS-SOUCI.  497 

quainted  with  all  the  monkey -tricks  of  my  immortal  friend,"  said 
the  king,  gayly  ;  "  and  you  are  indignant  that  so  great  a  genius  as 
Voltaire  should  have  possessed  so  small  a  soul !  You  think  it  very 
perfidious  in  Voltaire  to  have  joined  my  enemies  when  I  was  in 
trouble,  and  then  to  send  me  his  congratulations  if  I  happened  to 
win  a  victory  I" 

"Does  your  majesty  know  that  also?"  asked  the  astonished 
marquis. 

"  Dear  marquis,  have  we  not  always  good  friends  and  servants, 
who  take  a  pleasure  in  telling  bad  news,  and  informing  us  of  those 
things  which  they  know  it  will  give  us  pain  to  hear?  Even  kings 
have  such  friends,  and  mine  eagerly  acquainted  me  with  the  fact 
that  Voltaire  wished  all  manner  of  evil  might  befall  his  friend 
'Luc, '  as  it  pleased  him  to  call  me.  Did  he  not  write  to  D'Argental 
that  he  desired  nothing  more  fervently  than  my  utter  humiliation 
and  the  punishment  of  my  sins,  on  the  same  day  on  which  he  sent 
me  an  enthusiastic  poem,  written  in  honor  of  my  victory  at  Leuthen? 
Did  he  not  write  on  another  occasion  to  Richelieu,  that  the  happiest 
day  of  his  life  would  be  that  on  which  the  French  entered  Berlin  as 
conquerors,  and  destroyed  the  capital  of  the  treacherous  king  who 
dared  to  write  to  him  twice  every  month  the  tenderest  and  most 
flattering  things,  without  dreaming  of  reinstating  him  as  chamber- 
lain with  the  pension  of  six  thousand  thalers?  He  wished  that  I 
might  suffer  '  la  damnation  etemelle, '  and  proudly  added  .  '  Foms 
voyez,  que  dans  la  tragedie  je  veux  toujours  que  le  crime  soil  puni  '  " 

"  Yes, "  replied  D'Argens,  "and  at  the  same  time  he  wrote  here 
toFormay  :/  Votreroi  est  toujours unliomme unique,  etonnant,  inirii- 
table ;  ilfait  des  vers  cJiarmants  dans  de  temps  ou  un  autre  ne  pour- 
rait  f aire  un  ligne  de  prose,  il  merite  d'etre  heureux. '  " 

The  king  laughed  aloud.  "  Well,  and  what  does  that  prove,  that 
Voltaire  is  the  greatest  and  most  unprejudiced  of  poets?" 

"That  proves,  sire,  that  he  is  a  false,  perfidious  man,  a  faithless, 
ungrateful  friend.  All  his  great  poetical  gifts  weigh  as  nothing  in 
the  scale  against  the  weakness  and  wickedness  of  his  character. 
I  can  no  longer  admire  him  as  a  poet,  because  I  despise  him  so 
utterly  as  a  man. " 

"You  are  too  hard,  marquis, "  said  Frederick,  laughing.  "Vol 
taire  has  a  great  mind,  but  a  small  heart ,  and  that  is,  after  all,  less 
his  fault  than  his  Creator's.  Why  should  we  wish  to  punish  him, 
when  he  is  innocent?  Why  should  we  demaud  of  a  great  poet  that 
he  shall  be  a  good  man?  We  will  allow  him  to  have  a  bad  heart, 
he  can  account  to  Madame  Denis  for  that ;  and  if  we  cannot  love 
him,  we  can  at  least  admire  him  as  a  poet.  We  can  forgive  much 
wickedness  in  men,  if  it  is  redeemed  by  great  virtues. " 


498        FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Ah,  sire,  that  is  very  sad,"  sad  D'Argens,  "and  could  only  be 
uttered  by  one  who  had  the  most  profound  love  or  the  greatest  con- 
tempt for  mankind. " 

"Perhaps  the  two  are  combined  in  me,"  said  the  king.  "As 
Christ  said  of  the  Magdalen,  '  She  has  loved  much,  much  will  be 
forgiven  her, '  so  let  us  say  of  Voltaire.  He  has  written  much, 
much  will  be  forgiven  him.  He  has  lately  rendered  an  immortal 
service,  for  which  I  could  almost  love  him,  were  it  possible  to  love 
him  at  all.  He  undertook  with  bold  courage  the  defence  of  the 
unhappy  Jean  Galas,  who  was  murdered  by  fanatical  French  priests. 
The  priests,  perhaps,  will  condemn  him  ;  we,  however,  honor  him. " 

"Did  not  your  majesty  do  the  same  thing?"  asked  D'Argens. 
•'Did  you  not  also  take  pity  on  the  unhappy  faoiily  of  Jean  Galas? 
Did  you  not  send  them  a  considerable  amount  of  money  and  offer 
them  an  asylum  in  your  dominions?" 

"That  I  did,  certainly;  but  what  is  that  in  comparison  with 
what  Voltaire  has  done?  He  gave  them  the  strength  of  his  mind 
and  his  work,  his  best  possession,  while  I  could  only  give  them 
gold.  Voltaire's  gift  was  better,  more  beautiful,  and  I  will  now 
take  a  vow  for  his  sake,  that  the  persecuted  and  oppressed  shall 
always  find  aid  and  protection  in  my  land,  and  that  I  will  consider 
liberty  of  spirit  a  sacred  thing  as  long  as  I  live.  Freedom  of  thought 
shall  be  a  right  of  my  subjects.  I  will  call  all  free  and  liberal- 
minded  persons  to  come  to  me  ,  for  liberty  of  thought  brings  liberty 
of  will,  and  I  prefer  to  rule  a  thinking  people,  to  a  mass  of  thought- 
less slaves,  who  follow  me  through  stupid  obedience.  Prussia  shall 
be  the  land  of  liberty  and  enlightenment.  The  believ.ers  and  the 
unbelievers,  the  pietists  and  the  atheists  may  speak  alike  freely ; 
the  spirit  of  persecution  shall  be  forever  banished  from  Prussia. " 

"Amen,"  cried  D'Argens  solemnly,  as  he  glanced  at  the  excited, 
beaming  countenance  of  the  king.  "The  spirit  of  love  and  of  free- 
dom hears  your  words,  my  king,  and  they  will  be  written  with  a 
diamond-point  in  the  history  of  Prussia." 

"  And  now,  marquis, "  said  the  king,  "  we  wiU  visit  my  library, 
an4  then  we  will  repose  ourselves  that  we  may  enjoy  our  meal.  In 
the  evening  I  invite  you  to  the  concert.  My  musicians  are  coming 
from  Berlin ,  and  we  will  see  if  my  lips,  which  have  been  accus- 
tomed so  long  to  rough  words  of  discipline,  are  capable  of  produc- 
ing a  few  sweet  notes  from  my  flute. " 

Thus  speaking,  the  king  took  the  arm  of  the  marquis,  and  they 
passed  slowly  through  the  room,  whose  desolate  silence  made  them 
both  sad. 

"The  world  is  nothing  more  than  a  great,  gaping  grave, 
on  the  briak  of  wbicb  wq  w^lfe  wi(;h  wild  pgurage,"  s?iicl  the  king. 


THE  ItlNG  IN  SANS-SOUCl.  499 

softly.  "  Tliere  is  no  moment  that  some  one  does  not  stumble  at  our 
side  and  fall  into  the  abyss,  and  we  have  the  courage  to  continue  in 
the  path  until  our  strength  fails  and  we  sink,  making  room  for 
another.  Almost  all  of  those  who  formerly  occupied  these  rooms 
have  vanished.     How  long  will  it  be  ere  I  shall  follow  them?" 

" May  that  wretched  moment  be  very  distant!"  exclaimed  D'Ar- 
gens,  with  a  trembling  voice.  "Your  majesty  is  still  so  young  and 
full  of  life — you  have  nothing  to  do  with  death." 

"  No, "  said  the  king  ;  "  I  am  very  old,  for  I  have  become  indiffer- 
ent to  the  world.  Things  which  would  have  deeply  distressed  me 
fonnerly,  now  pass  unheeded  over  my  soul.  I  assure  you,  marquis, 
I  have  made  great  progress  in  practical  philosophy.  I  am  old  ;  I 
stand  at  the  limits  of  life,  and  my  soul  is  freeing  itself  from  this 
world,  which,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  I  will  soon  leave. " 

"Ah,  sire,"  said  D'Argens,  smiling,  "you  are  ten  years  younger 
than  I  am,  and  each  time  that  you  speak  of  your  rapidly  advancing 
age,  I  ask  myself  how  it  is  possible  that  a  man  so  much  younger 
than  I  should  complain  of  old  age.  Only  wait,  sire ;  here,  in  the 
quiet  of  Sans-Souci,  in  a  few  months  you  will  feel  ten  and  I  fifteen 
years  younger.  In  the  happiness  and  comforts  of  our  existence,  you 
will  live  to  the  age  of  Abraham  and  I  to  that  of  Jacob. " 

"  But  I  am  much  older  than  you,  marquis.  During  the  last  seven 
years,  I  have  had  nothing  but  destroyed  hopes,  undeserved  misfor- 
tunes, in  short,  all  that  the  caprice  of  Fortune  could  discover  to  dis- 
tress me.  After  such  experiences  it  is  allowable,  when  one  is  fifty 
years  old,  to  say  that  he  is  old,  that  he  will  no  longer  be  the  play- 
tliing  of  Fortune,  that  he  renounces  ambition  and  all  those  follies 
which  are  merely  the  illusions  of  inexperienced  youth.  But  no 
more  of  these  sad  thoughts,  for  here  we  are  at  last  at  the  door  of  my 
tusculum.  Fold  your  hands,  you  unbelieving  son  of  the  Church  ; 
the  gods  and  heroes  await  us  in  this  temple,  and  you  will  at  leasfe 
believe  in  these." 

They  entered  the  library,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  them  and 
they  were  separated  from  the  whole  world,  as  they  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  whose  only  ornament  consisted  of  rows  of  books, 
upon  which  glittered  in  golden  letters  the  names  of  the  great  minds 
of  all  ages,  whose  only  splendor  consisted  in  the  marble  busts  of 
Caesar  and  Virgil,  of  Cicero  and  Alexander,  the  king  said,  with 
beaming  eyes : 

"I  am  at  last  in  the  republic  of  minds,  and  I,  as  a  humble  citizen, 
approach  the  great  presidents,  who  look  down  so  graciously  upon 
me. " 

And,  as  the  king  seated  himself  in  his  arm-chair  before  his  writ- 
ing table,  he  recovered  his  sparkling  humor,  his  gay  wit,  and  re- 


600       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

counted  with  a  bright  smile  to  the  marquis  that  he  intended  to  work 
most  industriously,  that  he  would  certainly  write  a  history  of  this 
war  which  he  had  just  closed,  and  that  he  intended  always  to  live 
at  Sans-Souci,  as  its  quiet  and  repose  seemed  more  agreeable  to  him 
than  the  noise  and  turmoil  of  the  great  city.  He  then  dismissed 
the  marquis  for  a  short  time,  that  he  might  rest  before  going  to  the 
table. 

But  the  king  did  not  rest.  Too  many  and  too  powerful  thoughts 
were  surging  in  his  breast.  Leaning  back  in  his  arm-chair,  he 
thought  of  the  future.  He  recalled  his  own  life  and  arranged  his 
future  course.  After  sitting  thus  for  a  long  time,  he  suddenly 
arose,  his  countenance  bright  with  a  firm  and  energetic  expression. 

"Yes,  thus  it  shall  be,"  he  said  aloud.  "I  will  be  the  father 
of  my  people.  I  will  live  for  them,  forgetting  the  wickedness  of 
men,  or  only  avenging  myself  on  them  by  the  prickings  of  a  needle. 
I  have  no  family,  therefore  my  people  shall  be  my  family.  I  have 
no  children,  therefore  every  one  who  needs  my  aid  shall  become  my 
child,  and  for  them  I  will  do  the  duties  of  a  father.  My  country 
bleeds  from  a  thousand  wounds — to  heal  these  wounds  shall  be  the 
task  of  my  life. " 

True  to  this  resolution,  the  king  called  together  his  ministers  the 
next  day,  and  commanded  them  to  obtain  exact  accounts  of  the  condi- 
tion of  his  provinces ;  to  inform  him  of  the  wants  and  necessities 
of  the  people ;  and  to  assist  him  in  relieving  them.  True  to  this 
resolution,  the  king  was  untiring  in  his  work  for  the  good  of  his 
people.  He  wished  to  see  all,  to  prove  all.  He  desired  to  be  the 
source  from  which  his  subjects  received  all  their  strength  and 
power.  Therefore  he  must  know  all  their  griefs — he  must  lend  an 
open  ear  to  all  their  demands. 

His  first  command  was,  that  any  one  who  asked  for  an  interview 
should  be  admitted.  And  when  one  of  his  ministers  dared  to  ex- 
press his  astonishment  at  this  order,  "  It  is  the  duty  of  a  king, "  said 
Frederick,  "  to  listen  to  the  request  of  the  most  insignificant  of  his 
subjects.  I  am  a  regent  for  the  purpose  of  making  my  people  happy. 
I  do  not  dare  close  my  eai*s  to  their  complaints. "  And  he  listened 
sympathizingly  to  the  sorrows  of  his  people,  and  his  whole  mind 
and  thoughts  were  given  to  obtain  their  alleviation.  He  was  always 
willing  to  aid  with  his  counsel  and  his  strength.  Untiring  in  the 
work,  he  read  every  letter,  every  petition,  and  examined  every 
answer  which  was  written  by  his  cabinet  council.  He  and  he  alone, 
was  the  saul  of  his  government. 

A  new  life  began  to  reign  in  this  land,  of  which  he  was  the  soul. 
He  worked  more  than  all  of  his  ministers  or  servants,  and  music 
iwd  science  were  his  only  pleasure  and  recreation.     He  was  a  hero 


THE  ENGRAVED  CUP.  601 

in  peace  as  well  as  in  war.  He  did  not  require,  as  others  do,  the 
distraction  of  gay  pleasures.  Study  was  his  chief  recreation — con- 
Tersation  with  his  friends  was  his  greatest  pleasure.  Even  the 
hunt,  the  so-called  "  knightly  pleasure, "  had  no  charms  for  him. 

"Hunting,"  said  the  king,  "is  one  of  the  senseless  pleasures 
which  excites  the  body  but  leaves  the  mind  unemployed.  We  are 
more  cruel  than  the  wild  beasts  themselves.  He  who  can  murder 
an  innocent  animal  in  cold  blood,  would  find  it  impossible  to  show 
mercy  to  his  fellow-man.  Is  hunting  a  proper  employment  for  a 
thinking  creature?  A  gentleman  who  hunts  can  only  be  forgiven 
if  he  does  so  rarely,  and  then  to  distract  his  thoughts  from  sad  and 
earnest  business  matters.  It  would  be  wrong  to  deny  sovereigns 
all  relaxation,  but  is  there  a  greater  pleasure  for  a  monarch  than  to 
rule  well,  to  enrich  his  state,  and  to  advance  all  useful  sciences  and 
arte?    He  who  requires  other  enjoyments  is  to  be  pitied. " 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    ENGRAVED    CUP. 

Princess  Amelia  was  alone  in  her  boudoir — she  was  ever  alone. 
She  lay  upon  the  sofa,  gazed  at  the  ceiling,  and  in  utter  despair  re- 
flected upon  her  miserable  fate.  For  years  she  had  looked  anxiously 
forward  to  the  conclusion  of  this  unhappy  war  in  which  Austria 
and  Prussia  were  so  fiercely  opposed.  So  long  as  they  were  active 
enemies,  Trenck  must  remain  a  prisoner.  But  she  had  said  to  her- 
self, "  When  peace  is  declared,  the  prisoners  of  war  will  be  released, 
and  Maria  Theresa  will  demand  that  her  captain,  Frederick  von 
Trenck,  be  set  at  liberty. " 

Peace  had  been  declared  four  months,  and  Trenck  still  lay  in  his 
subterranean  cell  at  Magdeburg.  All  Europe  was  freed  from  the 
fetters  of  war.  Trenck  alone  was  unpardoned  and  forgotten.  This 
thought  made  Amelia  sad  unto  death,  banished  sleep  from  her 
couch,  and  made  her  a  restless,  despairing  wanderer  during  the  day. 

Amelia  had  no  longer  an  object — the  last  ray  of  hope  was  extin 
guished.  Peace  had  been  concluded  and  Trenck  was  forgotten! 
God  had  denied  her  the  happiness  of  obtaining  Trenck's  freedom  ; 
He  would  not  even  grant  her  the  consolation  of  seeing  him  released 
through  others.  For  nine  years  Trenck  had  languished  in  prison — 
for  nine  years  Amelia's  only  thought,  only  desire,  was  to  enable 
him  to  escape.  Her  life  was  consecrated  to  this  one  object.  She 
thought  not  of  the  gold  she  had  sacrificed— she  had  offered  up  not 
pgly  h«r  er^tire  private  fortiine,  but  had  pjftd©  debte  whJPh  b^?  jfl' 


602       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

come  was  utterly  inadequate  to  meet.  Money  had  no  value  except 
as  it  was  consecrated  to  her  one  great  aim.  She  felt  now  that  her 
heart  had  been  crushed  and  broken  in  her  useless  efforts — that  her 
hopes  were  trampled  in  the  dust,  and  her  existence  worthless.  Peace 
had  visited  all  hearts  but  hers  with  new  assurance  of  hope.  It 
brought  to  her  nothing  but  despair  and  desolation.  While  all  others 
seemed  to  recommence  life  with  fresh  courage  and  confidence, 
Amelia  withdrew  to  her  apartments,  brooding  in  dark  discontent — 
hating  all  those  who  laughed  and  were  glad— spuming  from  her 
with  angry  jealousy  the  contented  and  happy.  The  world  was  to 
her  a  vast  tomb,  and  she  despised  all  those  who  had  the  mad  and 
blasphemous  courage  to  dance  on  its  brink. 

Amelia  avenged  herself  on  those  who  avoided  her,  by  pursuing 
them  with  spiteful  jests  and  bitter  sarcasm,  hoping  in  this  way  to 
be  relieved  wholly  from  their  presence.  She  wished  to  be  alone  and 
always  alone.  Her  soul  within  her  was  desolate,  and  the  outward 
world  should  take  the  same  dark  hue.  She  lived  like  a  prisoner 
secluded  in  her  own  apartments  ;  and  when  some  great  court  festival 
compelled  her  to  appear  in  public,  she  revenged  herself  by  wound- 
ing all  who  approached  her.  The  sufferings  of  others  were  a  balsam 
to  her  heart,  and  she  convinced  herself  that  the  pain  she  inflicted 
assuaged  her  own  torments. 

Amelia  was  alone  ;  her  maid  of  honor  had  just  read  aloud  one  of 
Moliere's  biting,  satirical  comedies,  and  received  leave  of  absence 
for  a  few  hours.  The  princess  had  also  dismissed  her  chamberlain 
till  dinner,  and  he  had  left  the  castle  ;  only  two  pages  waited  in  the 
anteroom,  which  was  separated  by  two  chambers  from  the  boudoir. 
Amelia  had  the  happy  consciousness  of  being  alone  in  her  grief, 
and,  fearing  no  disturbance,  she  could  sigh  and  lament  aloud.  She 
dared  give  words  to  her  rage  and  her  despair ;  there  were  no  other 
listeners  than  these  dead,  voiceless  walls— they  had  been  long  her 
only  confidants.  The  stillness  was  suddenly  broken  by  a  gentle 
knock  at  the  door,  and  one  of  the  pages  entered. 

With  a  frightened  look,  and  begging  earnestly  to  be  pardoned  for 
having  dared  to  disturb  the  princess,  he  informed  her  that  a  stranger 
was  without,  who  pleaded  eagerly  to  be  admitted. 

"What  does  he  wish?"  said  Amelia,  roughly.  "I  have  neither 
office  nor  dignity  to  bestow,  and,  at  present,  I  have  no  money  !  Tell 
him- this,  and  he  will  go  away  cheerfully." 

"The  stranger  says  he  is  a  jeweller,  your  highness,"  said  the 
page.  "It  is  of  great  importance  to  him  that  you  should  look  at  his 
collection  of  gems ;  and  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  purchase  a 
few  trifles,  you  will  jn^^  them  the  fashion  in  Berlin,  and  thus 
miike  bis  fortune, " 


THE  ENGRAVED  CUP.  503 

"Tell  him  he  is  a  fool!"  said  Amelia,  with  a  coarse  laugh ;  "I 
have  no  desire  to  see  his  jewels  !  Dismiss  him,  and  do  not  dare  dis- 
turb me  again.  Well,  why  do  you  hesitate?  Why  are  you  still 
here?" 

"Ah,  princess,  the  poor  man  begs  so  earnestly  for  admittance; 
he  says  your  highness  knew  him  at  Magdeburg,  and  that  the  gov- 
ernor, the  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  expressly  charged  him  to  show  the 
jewels  to  your  highness. " 

These  magical  words  aroused  Amelia  from  her  apathy.  With  a 
quick  movement  she  arose  from  the  sofa ;  she  was  endowed  with 
new  energy  and  vitalitj' ;  she  advanced  toward  the  door,  then 
paused,  and  looked  silent  and  thoughtful. 

"Admit  the  stranger  !"  said  she,  "I  will  see  his  treasures." 

The  page  left  the  room,  and  Amelia  gazed  after  him  breath- 
lessly, and  with  a  loudly -beating  heart.  It  seemed  to  her  an  eter- 
nity before  the  stranger  entered. 

A  tall,  slender  man,  in  simple  but  elegant  costume,  approached. 
He  stood  at  the  door,  and  bowed  profoundly  to  the  princess.  Amelia 
looked  at  him  steadily,  and  sighed  deeply;  she  did  not  know  this 
man.     Again  her  hopes  had  deceived  her. 

»  "You  said  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse  sent  you  to  me?"  said  she, 
roughly. 

"  Yes,  princess, "  said  the  man  ;  "  he  commanded  me  to  seek  your 
highness  as  soon  as  I  arrived  in  Berlin,  and  show  you  my  collection, 
in  order  that  you  might  have  the  privilege  of  selecting  before  all 
others. " 

Amelia  looked  once  more  questioningly  and  fiercely  upon  the 
stranger,  but  he  remained  cold  and  indifferent. 

"  Well,  sir,  show  me  your  gems  !" 

He  placed  a  large  casket  upon  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  ; 
he  then  unlocked  it,  and  threw  back  the  lid.  In  the  different  com- 
partments, splendid  jewels  of  wondroife  beauty  were  to  be  seen — 
rings,  pins,  bracelets,  and  necklaces  of  rare  workmanship  and 
design. 

"Diamonds,"  cried  Amelia,  contemptuously;  "nothing  but 
diamonds !" 

**  But  diamonds  of  a  strange  fire  and  wondrous  design, "  said  the 
strange  jeweller.  "  Will  not  your  highness  graciously  draw  nearer, 
and  observe  them?" 

"  I  have  no  use  for  them  ;  I  wear  no  diamonds  1"  said  Amelia ; 
"  if  you  have  nothing  else  to  show  me,  close  the  casket ;  I  shall  make 
no  purchase. " 

"  I  have,  indeed,  other  and  rarer  treasvu-es ;  some  beautiful  carved 
work,  by  CelUni.  some  ivory  carving  of  the  middle  ages,  and  a  few 


604       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

rare  and  costly  cameos.     Perhaps  these  may  please  the  taste  of  your 
highness?" 

The  jeweller  raised  the  first  compartment,  and  taking  out 
a  number  of  beautiful  and  costly  articles,  he  laid  them  upon 
the  table,  explained  the  workmanship  and  design  of  each  piece, 
and  called  the  attention  of  the  princess  to  their  wondrous 
beauty. 

Amelia  listened  carelessly  to  his  words.  These  things  had  no 
interest  for  her ;  she  looked  only  at  one  object — a  round  packet, 
rolled  in  paper,  which  the  stranger  had  taken  with  the  other  articles 
from  the  casket ;  this  must  be  something  particularly  costly.  It 
was  carefully  wrapped  in  silk  paper,  while  every  thing  else  lay 
confusedly  together,  and  yet  this  seemed  the  only  treasure  which  the 
jeweller  did  not  seem  disposed  to  exhibit.  Amelia,  however,  re- 
marked that  ho  raised  this  mysterious  packet  several  times,  as  if  it 
was  in  his  way  ;  changed  its  place,  but  every  time  brought  it  nearer 
to  her.     It  now  lay  immediately  in  front  of  her. 

"What  does  that  paper  contain?"  said  she. 

"Oh,  that  has  no  interest  for  your  royal  highness;  that  is  a 
worthless  object !  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  examine  this  seal? 
It  represents  the  holy  Saint  Michael,  treading  the  dragon  under  his 
feet,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  successful  and  beautiful  works  of 
Benvenuto  Cellini. " 

Amelia  did  not  look  at  the  seal ;  she  stretched  out  her  hand 
toward  the  mj'sterious  packet,  and  giving  a  searching  look  at  the 
jeweller,  she  raised  and  opened  it. 

"A  cup!  a  tin  cup!"  she  exclaimed,  in  astonishment. 

"  As  I  remarked  to  your  highness,  a  worthless  object ;  unless  the 
rare  beauty  of  the  workmanship  should  give  it  some  value.  The 
carving  is  indeed  beautiful  and  most  wonderful,  when  you  know 
that  it  was  done  with  a  common  nail,  and  not  even  in  daylight,  but 
in  the  gloom  and  darkness  oi  a  subterranean  cell." 

Amelia  trembled  so  violently,  that  the  cup  almost  fell  from  her 
hand.  Tlie  stranger  did  not  remark  her  emotion,  but  went  on 
quietly. 

''Observe,  your  highness,  how  finely  and  correctly  the  outlines 
are  drawn  ;  it  is  as  artistically  executed  as  the  copperplate  of  a 
splendid  engraving.  It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  we  cannot 
take  impressions  from  this  tin  cup ;  they  would  make  charming 
pictures.  Tlie  sketches  are  not  only  well  executed,  but  they  are 
thoughtfully  and  pathetically  conceived  and  illustrated  with  beau- 
tiful verses,  which  are  worthy  of  a  place  in  any  album.  If  your 
highness  takes  any  interest  in  such  trifles,  I  beg  you  will  take  this 
to  the  light  and  examine  it  clonely. " 


THE  JEWELER  AND  PBINCESS  AMELIE. 


THE  ENGRAVED  CUP.  505 

The  princess  did  not  answer ;  she  stepped  to  the  window,  aud 
turning  her  back  to  the  jeweller,  looked  eagerly  at  the  cup. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  masterpiece  of  art  and  industry.  The  surface 
was  divided  by  small  and  graceful  arabesques  into  ten  departments, 
each  one  of  which  contained  an  enchanting  and  finely-executed 
picture.  No  chisel  could  have  drawn  the  lines  more  correctly  or 
artistically,  or  produced  a  finer  effect  of  light  and  shade.  Under 
each  picture  there  was  a  little  verse  engraved  in  such  fine  charac- 
ters, that  they  could  only  be  deciphered  with  difficulty. 

Amelia's  eyes  seemed  to  have  recovered  the  strength  and  power 
of  earlier  days.  A  youthful,  vigorous  soul  lay  in  the  glance  which 
was  fixed  upon  this  cup  ;  she  understood  every  thing. 

There  was  a  cage  with  an  imprisoned  bird  ;  beneath  this  a  verse  : 

"  Ce  n'est  pas  un  moineau, 

Gard6  dans  cette  cage, 
C'est  un  de  ces  oiseaux, 

Qui  chantent  dans  I'orage. 
Ouvrez,  amis  des  sages, 

Brisez  fers  et  verroux  ; 
Les  chants  dans  vos  bocages, 

Rejailliront  pour  vous."  * 

In  the  next  compartment  was  again  a  cage,  containing  a  bird, 
and  on  the  branch  of  a  tree  under  wh'ch  the  cage  was  placed, 
perched  another  bird,  with  fluttering  wings  and  open  beak  ;  under- 
neath was  written — 

"  Le  rossignol  chante;  voici  la  raison, 
Pourquoi  il  est  pris  pour  chanter  en  prison; 
Voyez  le  moineau  qui  fait  tant  de  dommage, 
Jouir  de  la  vie  sans  craindre  la  cage. 

Voiia  un  portrait, 

Qui  montre  Teff  et 
Du  bonheur  des  fripons  du  d^sastre  des  sages.''  * 

Amelia  could  not  control  herself  ;  she  could  look  no  longer.  She 
rarely  wept,  but  now  her  eyes  were  filled  with  teai-s.  They  fell  upon 
the  cup,  as  if  to  kiss  the  letters  which  had  recalled  so  many  touching 
and  sad  remembrances.  But  she  had  no  time  for  tears ,  she  must 
read  on  !  With  an  involuntary  movement,  she  dashed  the  tears  from 
her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  steadily  upon  the  cup. 

Here  was  another  picture.  In  a  cell  lay  a  skeleton  form,  the 
hands  and  the  feet  bound  with  heavy  chains.  The  figure  had  raised 
itself  slightly  from  the  straw  bed  and  gazed  with  an  agonized  ex- 
pression at  the  grating  in  the  wall,  behind  which  the  grim-bearded 
face  of  a  soldier  was  seen,  who,  witli  wide-open  mouth  seemed  to 

*  See  note,  page  57a. 
83 


506       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

be  calling  angiily  to  the  prisoner.     Beneath  this  stood  some  verses 
in  German.  * 

"Oh  fearful!  most  fearful!"  sobbed  Amelia;  and,  completely 
overcome,  her  head  sank  upon  her  breast.  She  cared  not  that  the 
strange  jeweller  saw  her  tears  and  heard  the  despairing  cry  of  her 
heart ;  she  had  nothing  to  fear  ;  she  had  no  more  to  lose.  The  as- 
sembled world  might  hear  and  see  her  great  grief.  But  no,  no  ;  this 
must  not  be.  His  agony,  his  tortures,  might  perhaps  be  increased 
to  punish  her  through  him  !  She  must  not  weep  ;  she  must  not  com- 
plain. Trenck  lived ;  although  in  prison  and  in  chains,  he  still 
lived  ;  so  long  as  he  lived,  she  must  conquer  the  despair  of  her  heart. 

As  she  thought  thus,  she  dried  her  tears,  and  raised  her  liead  with 
proud  resolve.  She  would  be  calm  and  self-possessed  ;  perhaps  this 
man,  sent  to  her  by  the  landgrave,  had  something  still  to  say  to  lier. 
She  haK  turned  her  head  toward  him  ;  he  appeared  not  to  be  think- 
ing of  her,  but  was  quietly  engaged  placing  his  treasures  again  in 
his  casket. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  who  engraved  this  cup?" 

"  Certainly,  your  royal  highness.  A  poor  prisoner,  who  has  been 
confined  for  nine  years  in  a  subterranean  cell  in  the  fortress  of  Mag- 
deburg, engraved  it.  He  is  called  Frederick  von  Trenck.  Your 
highness  has  perhaps  never  heard  the  name,  but  in  Magdeburg 
every  child  knows  it,  and  speaks  it  with  wonder  and  admiration  I 
No  one  has  seen  liim,  but  every  one  knows  of  his  daring,  his  hero- 
ism, his  unfaltering  courage,  and  endurance,  his  herculean  strength, 
and  his  many  and  marvellous  attempts  to  escape.  Trenck  is  the 
hero  of  the  nursery  as  well  as  the  saloon.  No  lady  in  Magdeburg  is 
acquainted  with  him,  but  all  are  enthusiastic  in  his  praise,  and  all 
the  officers  who  know  him  love  and  pity  him.  Many  are  ready  to 
risk  their  lives  for  him  !" 

Tlie  princess  sighed  deeply,  and  a  ray  of  joy  and  hope  lighted  up 
her  countenance.  She  listened  with  suppressed  breath  to  the  jewel- 
ler's words — they  sounded  like  far-off  music,  pleasant  but  mournful 
to  the  soul. 

The  stranger  continued  :  "  Some  time  since,  in  order  to  dispel  the 
tediousness  of  his  prison-life,  he  began  to  engrave  poems  and  fig- 
ures upon  his  tin  cup  with  a  nail  which  he  had  found  in  the  earth 
while  making  his  last  attempt  to  undermine  the  floor  of  his  cell. 
During  one  of  his  visits  of  observation,  the  commandant  discovered 

*  See  memoirs  of  Trenck,  Thi6bault,  in  which  Trenck  describes  one  of  these  cups 
and  the  fate  which  befell  It.  One  of  them  was  engraved  for  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse, 
and  in  this  way  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Emperor  Joseph  the  Second,  who  kept  it  in 
his  art  cabinet.  Another,  which  had  been  once  in  possession  of  the  wife  of  Freder- 
ick the  Great,  Trenck  afterward  recovered  in  Paris.  Some  of  these  cups  aie  still  to 
be  aeon  in  art  collections  in  Germany,  and  some  are  in  the  museum  in  Berlin. 


THE  ENGRAVED  CUP.  507 

this  cup ;  he  was  delighted  with  the  engravings,  took  the  cup  and 
sent  Trenck  another,  hoping  he  would  continue  the  exercise  of  his 
art.  Trenck  seized  the  occasion  joyfully,  and  since  then  he  has  been 
constantly  occupied  as  an  engraver.  Every  officer  desires  to  have  a 
cup  engraved  by  him,  as  a  souvenir.  Every  lady  in  Magdeburg 
longs  for  one,  and  prefers  it  to  the  most  costly  jewel.  These  cups 
are  now  the  mode — indeed,  they  have  become  an  important  article 
in  trade.  If  one  of  the  officers  can  be  induced  to  sell  his  cup,  it  will 
cost  twenty  louis  d'or.  Trenck  gets  no  money  for  his  work,  but  he 
has  gained  far  greater  advantages.  These  cups  give  him  the  oppor- 
timity  of  making  known  to  the  world  the  cruel  tortures  to  which  he 
is  subject ;  they  have  given  him  speech,  and  replaced  the  writing 
materials  of  which  they  have  deprived  him.  They  have  answered 
even  a  better  and  holier  purpose  than  this, "  said  the  jeweller,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  they  have  procured  him  light  and  air.  In  order  to  give 
him  suflBcient  light  for  his  work,  the  oflficers  open  the  doors  into  the 
first  corridor,  in  which  there  is  a  large  window ;  one  of  the  upper 
panes  of  this  window  is  open  every  morning.  As  the  days  are  short 
in  the  casemates,  the  commandant  looks  through  his  fingers,  when 
the  ofiicers  bring  lights  to  the  poor  prisoner.  Trenck  feels  as  if  his 
wretched  prison-cell  was  now  changed  into  the  atelier  of  an  artist." 
Amelia  was  silent  and  pressed  the  cup  tenderly  to  her  lips  ;  the 
stranger  did  not  regard  her,  but  continued  his  recital  quietly. 

"  An  officer  of  the  garrison  told  me  all  this,  your  highness,  when 
he  sold  me  this  cup.  They  make  no  secret  of  their  admiration  and 
affection  for  Trenck  ;  they  know  they  would  be  severely  punished  if 
the  higher  authorities  discovered  that  they  allowed  Trenck  any 
privileges  or  alleviations,  but  they  boast  of  it  and  consider  it  a  hu- 
mane action. " 

"  May  God  reward  them  for  it !"  sighed  Amelia.  "  I  will  buy  this 
cup,  sir.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  behind  the  ladies  of  Magdeburg,  and 
as  it  is  the  mode  to  possess  a  cup  engraved  by  Trenck,  I  will  take 
this.     Name  your  price. " 

The  jeweller  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  said : 
"Pardon  me,   your  highness,   I  dare  not  sell  you  this  cup,  or 
rather  I  implore  your  highness  not  to  desire  it.     If  possible,  I  will 
make  it  an  instrument  for  Trenck's  release." 

"How  can  this  be  done?"  said  Amelia,  breathlessly. 
"I  will  take  this  cup  to  General  Riedt,  the  Austrian  ambassador 
in  Berlin.  As  all  the  world  is  interesting  itself  for  Trenck,  I  do 
not  see  why  I  should  not  do  the  same,  and  endeavor  to  obtain  his  re- 
lease. I  shall  therefore  go  to  General  Riedt  with  this  cup.  I  am 
told  he  is  a  noble  gentleman  and  a  distant  relation  of  Trenck  ;  he 
canuot  fail  to  sympathise  with  hi?  upfortuoate  cousin.     When 


608        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

he  hears  of  his  cruel  sufferings  he  will  certainly  strive  to  deliver 
him.  General  Riedt  is  exactly  the  man  to  effect  this  great  object ; 
he  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  the  by-ways  and  intrigues  of 
the  court  of  Vienna.  Maria  Theresa  classes  him  among  her  most 
trusted  confidants  and  friends.  Whoever  desires  to  free  Trenck 
must  consult  with  General  Riedt  and  win  him." 

Amelia  raised  her  head  and  looked  up  quickly  at  the  stranger  ; 
his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  a  searching  and  significant  ex- 
pression ;  their  glances  met  and  were  steadily  fixed  for  one  moment; 
then  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile  flitted  over  the  face  of  the  jeweller, 
and  the  princess  nodded  her  head.  Each  felt  that  they  were  under- 
stood. 

"Have  you  nothing  more  to  say?"  said  Amelia. 

"No,  your  highness,  I  have  only  to  beg  you  will  pardon  me  for 
not  selling  you  this  cup.     I  must  take  it  to  General  Riedt. " 

"Leave  it  with  me,"  said  Amelia,  after  a  few  moments'  reflec- 
tion. "I  myself  will  show  it  to  him  and  seek  to  interest  him  in  the 
fate  of  his  unhappy  relative.  If  I  succeed,  the  cup  is  mine,  and 
you  will  not  wish  to  sell  it  to  General  Riedt.  Do  you  agree  to  this? 
Qo,  then,  and  return  to  me  at  this  hour  to-morrow,  when  I  will  either 
pay  you  the  price  of  the  cup,  or  return  it  to  you,  if  I  am  so  vmhappy 
as  to  fail. " 

The  jeweller  bowed  profoundly.  "  I  will  punctually  obey  your 
highness's  commands.     To-morrow  at  this  hour  I  will  be  here." 

The  stranger  took  his  casket  and  left  the  room.  The  princess 
gazed  after  him  till  the  door  closed. 

"  That  man  is  silent  and  discreet,  I  believe  he  can  be  trusted, " 
she  murmured.  "I  will  write  at  once,  and  desire  an  interview 
with  General  Riedt. " 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  DIPLOMAT. 

An  hour  later  the  page  of  the  princess  announced  General  von 
Riedt,  Austrian  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Berlin.  Amelia  ad- 
vanced to  meet  him,  and  gazed  with  a  sharp,  piercing  glance  at  the 
general,  who  bowed  respectfully  before  her. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  general, "  said  the  princess,  "  to  repair  au 
injury.  You  have  been  announced  twice,  and  both  times  I  declined 
receiving  you. " 

"Th^t  wfts  00  injury,  your  royal  highness,"  said  the  general, 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  DIPLOMAT.  509 

smiling.  "I  ventured  to  call  on  you  because  etiquette  demands  that 
a  new  ambassador  should  introduce  himself  to  every  member  of  the 
royal  house.  Your  royal  highness  declined  to  receive  me,  it  was 
not  agreeable,  and  you  were  perfectly  justifiable  in  closing  your 
doors  against  me. " 

"  And  now  you  must  wonder  why  I  have  sent  for  you?" 

"  I  never  allow  myself  to  wonder.  Your  order  for  me  to  come 
has  made  me  happy — that  is  sufficient. " 

"You  have  no  suspicion  why  I  sent  for  you?" 

"  Your  royal  highness  has  just  informed  me  you  kindly  wished 
to  indemnify  me  for  my  two  former  visits." 

"  You  are  a  good  diplomatist ;  you  turn  quickly  about,  are  as 
smooth  as  an  eel,  cannot  be  taken  hold  of,  but  slip  through  one's 
fingers.  I  am  accustomed  to  go  at  once  to  the  point — I  cannot  di- 
plomatize. See  here,  why  I  wished  to  see  you — I  wished  to  show 
you  this  cup. " 

She  took  the  cup  hastily  from  the  table,  and  gave  it  to  the  am- 
bassador. He  gazed  at  it  long  and  earnestly  ;  he  turned  it  around, 
looking  at  every  picture,  reading  every  verse.  Amelia  watched 
him  keenly,  but  his  countenance  betrayed  nothing.  He  was  as 
smiling,  as  unembarrassed  as  before.  When  he  had  looked  at  it 
attentively,  he  placed  it  on  the  table. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  workmanship?"  said  Amelia. 

"  It  is  wonderful,  worthy  of  an  artist,  your  royal  highness. " 

"And  do  you  know  by  what  artist  it  was  made?" 

"  I  suspect  it,  your  royal  highness. " 

"Give  me  his  name?"* 

"  I  think  he  is  called  Frederick  von  Trenck. " 

"It  is  so,  and  if  I  do  not  err,  he  is  your  relative?" 

"  My  distant  relative — yes,  your  royal  highness. " 

"And  can  you  bear  to  have  your  relative  in  chains?  Does  not 
your  heart  bleed  for  his  sufferings?" 

"  He  suffers  justly,  I  presume,  or  he  would  not  have  been  con- 
demned. " 

"  Were  he  the  greatest  criminal  that  lived,  it  would  still  be  a 
crime  to  make  him  suffer  perpetually.  A  man's  sleep  is  sacred,  b€ 
he  a  criminal  or  a  murderer.  Let  them  kill  the  criminal,  but  they 
should  not  murder  sleep.  Look  at  this  picture,  general ;  look  at 
this  prisoner  lying  upon  the  hard  floor  ;  he  has  been  torn  from  his 
dreams  of  freedom  and  happiness  by  the  rough  voice  of  the  soldier 
standing  at  his  door.  Read  the  verse  beneath  it — is  not  every  word 
of  it  bathed  in  tears?  Breathes  there  not  a  cry  of  terror  throughout 
so  fearful,  so  unheard-of,  that  it  must  resound  in  every  breast v 
And  you,  his  relative,  you  will  not  hear  him?    You  will  do  nothing 


510       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

to  free  this  unfortunate  man  from  his  prison?  You,  the  Austrian 
ambassador,  suffer  an  oflBcer  of  your  empress  to  remain  a  prisoner 
in  a  strange  land,  without  a  trial,  without  a  hearing." 

.  "  When  my  empress  sent  me  here,  she  gave  me  her  instructions, 
and  she  informed  me  of  the  extent  and  character  of  my  duties. 
She  did  not  request  me  to  exert  myself  for  the  release  of  this  un- 
fortunate prisoner  ;  that  is  entirely  beyond  my  sphere  of  action,  and 
I  must  be  discreet. " 

"  You  must  be  careful  and  discreet  when  the  life  of  a  man,  a 
relative,  is  concerned?    You  have,  then,  no  pity  for  him ?" 

"I  pity  him  deeply,  your  royal  highness,  but  can  do  nothing 
more. " 

"  Perhaps  not  you !    Perhaps  another !    Perhaps  I  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  if  your  royal  highness  interests  herself  sufficiently 
in  the  prisoner  to  work  for  him. " 

"  You  know  not  whether  I  interest  myself  sufficiently  in  Trenck 
to  serve  him, "  cried  Amelia,  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "You  well  know 
it ;  the  whole  world  knows  it ;  no  one  dares  speak  of  it  aloud,  for 
fear  of  the  king's  anger  ;  but  it  is  whispered  throughout  the  whole 
land  why  Trenck  languishes  in  prison.  You,  you  alone,  should  be 
ignorant  of  it !  Know,  then,  that  Trenck  is  imprisoned  because  I 
love  him  !  Yes,  general,  I  love  him  1  Why  do  you  not  laugh,  sir? 
Is  it  not  laughable  to  hear  an  old,  wrinkled,  broken-down  creature 
speak  of  love — to  see  a  wan,  trembling  form,  tottering  to  her  grave 
on  a  prop  of  love?  Look  at  this  horribly  disfigiired  countenance. 
Listen  to  the  rough,  discordant  voice  that  dares  to  speak  of  love, 
and  then  laugh,  general,  for  I  tell  you  I  love  Trenck.  I  love  him 
with  all  the  strength  and  passion  of  a  young  girl.  Grief  and  age 
have  laid  a  fearful  mask  upon  my  countenance,  but  my  heart  is 
still  young,  there  burns  within  it  an  undying,  a  sacred  flame.  My 
thoughts,  my  desires  are  passionate  and  youthful,  and  my  every 
thought,  my  every  desire  is  for  Trenck.  I  could  tell  you  of  all  the 
agony,  all  the  despair  I  have  endured  for  his  sake,  but  it  would  be 
useless.  There  is  no  question  of  my  sufferings,  but  of  his  who 
through  me  has  lost  his  youth  and  his  freedom — his  all !  Nine  years 
he  has  lain  in  prison  ;  for  nine  years  my  one  aim  has  been  to  release 
him.  My  existence,  my  soul,  my  heart,  are  bound  up  in  his  prison 
walls.  I  only  live  to  release  him.  Though  I  have  ceased  to  look  for 
human  assistance,  my  heart  still  prays  earnestly  to  God  for  some 
way  of  escape.  If  you  know  any  such,  general,  show  it  to  me,  and 
were  it  strewed  with  thorns  and  burning  irons,  I  would  wander 
upon  it  in  my  bare  feet." 

She  raised  her  hands  and  fixed  an  imploring  glance  upon  the 
general,  who  had  listened  to  her  in  silence.     When  she  had  ceased 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  DIPLOMAT.  611 

speaking,  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her.  Amelia  could  have 
cried  aloud  for  joy,  for  two  bright,  precious  tears  gleamed  in  his 
eye. 

"  You  weep, "  cried  she  ;  "  you  have  some  pity. " 

The  general  took  her  hand,  and  kneeling  reverentially  before  her 
he  said  :  "  Yes,  I  weep,  but  not  over  you.  I  weep  over  your  great, 
self-sacrificing  soul.  I  do  not  pity  you— your  grief  is  too  great, 
too  sacred — it  is  above  pity.  But  I  bow  profoundly  before  you,  for 
your  suffering  is  woi'thy  of  all  reverence.  To  me  you  appear  much 
more  beautiful  than  all  the  women  of  this  court  who  dance  giddily 
through  life.  It  is  not  the  diplomatist  but  the  man  who  kneels  be- 
fore you  and  offers  you  his  homage. " 

Gently  Amelia  bade  him  rise.  With  a  sweet,  happy  smile  upon 
her  lip  she  thanked  him  for  his  sympathy,  and  hoped  they  would 
be  good  friends  and  counsel  with  each  other. 

The  general  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  "  The  feelings  of  the 
empress  must  be  worked  upon — she  must  intercede  with  King  Fred- 
erick for  Trenck.     He  cannot  refuse  her  first  request. " 

"Will  you  undertake  to  effect  this?"  said  Amelia,  hastily. 
"Will  you  intercede  for  your  unfortunate  relative?" 

"  I  had  done  so  long  ago  had  it  been  possible.  Alas,  1  dared  not. 
Trenck  is  my  relative — my  request  would,  therefore,  have  been  con- 
sidered as  that  of  a  prejudiced  person.  My  exalted  empress  possesses 
so  strong  a  sense  of  right  that  it  has  become  a  rule  of  hers  never  to 
fulfil  a  request  made  by  any  of  her  own  intimate  and  confidential 
friends  for  their  families  or  relatives.  She  would  have  paid  no 
attention  to  my  request  for  Trenck 's  release.  Moreover,  I  would 
have  made  enemies  of  a  powerful  and  influential  party  at  court — 
with  a  party  whose  wish  it  is  that  Trenck  may  never  be  released,  be- 
cause he  would  then  come  and  demand  an  account  of  the  gold,  jewels, 
and  property  left  him  by  his  cousin,  the  colonel  of  the  pandours, 
thus  causing  a  great  disturbance  amongst  several  noble  families  at 
court.  These  families  are  continually  filling  the  ear  of  the  empress 
with  acccusations  against  the  unfortunate  prisoner,  well  knowing 
that  he  cannot  defend  himself.  You  must  appear  to  have  forgotten 
that  poor  Trenck  is  languishing  in  prison  while  his  property  i.s  being 
guarded  by  stewards  who  pay  themselves  for  their  heavy  labor  with 
the  old  colonel's  money.  It  is  dangerous,  therefore,  to  meddle  with 
this  wasp's  nest.  To  serve  Trenck,  the  interceder  must  be  so  harm- 
less and  insignificant  that  no  one  will  consider  it  worth  while  to 
watch  him,  so  that  Trenok's  enemies,  not  suspecting  him,  can  plac§ 
no  obstacles  in  his  path. " 

"Lives  there  such  a  one?"  said  the  priac999, 

"  Yes,  ^our  ro^al  highoese, " 


613       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  Where  is  he?    What  is  his  name?    What  is  he?" 

"  The  fireman  in  the  apartments  of  the  empress.  He  is  a  poor 
Savoyard,  without  name,  without  rank,  without  position,  but  with 
credit  and  influence. " 

"A  fireman?"  cried  the  princess,  with  amazement. 

"An  old,  ugly,  deformed  fellow,  called  by  the  other  serrants 
Gnome  because  of  his  stubborn  silence,  his  want  of  sociability,  his 
rough  manner  and  voice,  his  caring  for  nothing  but  his  service, 
which  he  performs  with  great  method.  Every  morning  at  six  he 
enters  her  majesty's  apartment,  makes  the  fire,  throws  back  the 
curtain  to  admit  the  light,  arranges  the  chairs,  and  then  withdraws 
without  the  least  noise.  All  this  he  does  without  committing  the 
slightest  indiscretion ;  always  the  same ;  never  lingering  beyond 
his  time — never  leaving  before.  He  is  like  a  clock  that  maintains 
always  the  same  movement  and  sound.  The  empress,  accustomed 
for  thirty  yeai-s  to  see  him  enter  daily  her  apartments,  has  become 
used  to  his  homeliness,  and  often  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart  enters 
into  conversation  with  him.  His  answers  are  always  laconic,  in  a 
tone  of  perfect  indifiference — at  times  brusque,  even  harsh — but  they 
have  a  sensible  and  often  a  deep  meaning.  When  the  empress 
speaks  with  him,  he  does  not  cease  his  work  for  a  moment,  and 
when  he  has  finished  he  does  not  remain  a  minute  longer,  but  goes 
without  asking  if  she  desires  to  continue  the  conversation.  For 
thirty  years  he  has  had  the  same  duties  and  has  fulfilled  them  in 
the  same  manner.  He  has  never  been  accused  of  a  mistake — he  has 
never  been  guilty  of  inquisitiveness  or  intrigue.  Thus  the  empress 
has  great  and  firm  confidence  in  him.  She  is  so  convinced  of  his 
truth,  disinterestedness,  and  probity,  that  he  has  gained  a  sort  of 
influence  over  her,  and  as  she  knows  that  he  is  to  be  won  neither  by 
gold,  flattery,  promises  of  position  and  rank,  she  constantly  asks 
his  opinion  on  matters  of  importance,  and  not  seldom  is  biassed  by 
its  strong,  sensible  tone. " 

"But  if  this  man  is  so  honest  and  disinterested,  how  are  we  to 
influence  him  ?" 

"We  must  seek  to  win  his  heart  and  his  head.  He  must  become 
interested  in  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  prisoner — he  must  become 
anxious  for  his  release.  When  we  have  done  this  much,  we  can 
question  his  self-interest  and  offer  him  gold. " 

"Gold?  Tliis  wonder  of  probity  and  truth  is  susceptible  to 
bribes?" 

"  He  never  has,  perhaps  never  may  be.  He  himself  has  no  desires, 
no  necessities ;  but  he  has  one  weakness— his  daughter.  She  is  a 
young  and  lovely  girl,  whom  he,   in  his   dark   distrust  of  all  at 

CQwrt  in  tb?  form  of  m^n,  ha?  bad  educ^t^d  m  9,  popveut  f^r  frQiu 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  DIPLOiyiAT.  513 

Vienna.  She  is  now  living  with  some  respectable  family  in  Vienna, 
but  she  never  visits  him,  never  enters  the  castle  to  inquire  for  him 
for  fear  she  should  be  seen  by  some  of  the  court  gentlemen.  This 
girl  has  now  formed  an  attachment  to  ayoimg  doctor.  They  would 
like  to  marry,  but  he  has  no  practice,  she  no  money.  Her  father 
has  saved  nothing,  but  spent  all  his  wages  on  her  education,  and 
has  no  dowry  for  his  daughter. " 

"And  he  intends  to  plead  with  the  empress  for  this  dower?" 

"  If  such  a  thought  came  to  him  he  would  put  it  away  with  con- 
tempt, for  his  only  ambition  consists  in  making  no  requests,  receiv- 
ing no  gifts  from  the  empress.  Nor  would  he  now  act  for  this  gold 
alone  contrary  to  his  idea  of  right,  were  his  daughter  to  die  of  sor- 
row. As  I  said  before,  his  heart  and  head  must  first  be  won,  then 
only  must  we  speak  of  reward. " 

"  If  this  man  has  a  heart,  we  cannot  fail  to  win  it  when  we  tell 
him  all  that  Trenck  has  suffered  and  still  endures, "  cried  the  prin- 
cess. "The  agony  and  despair  that  have  been  heaped  upon  the 
head  of  one  poor  mortal  will  surely  touch  both  head  and  heart. 
When  we  have  succeeded,  we  will  give  his  daughter  a  handsome 
dower.  God  has  so  willed  it  that  I  am  right  rich  now,  and  can  ful- 
fil my  promises.  My  pension  as  abbess  and  my  salary  as  princess 
were  both  paid  in  yesterday.  There  is  a  little  fortune  in  my  desk, 
and  I  shall  add  more  to  it.  Do  you  think  four  thousand  louis  d'or 
will  be  suflSeient  to  win  the  Savoyard's  heart?" 

"  For  any  other  it  would  be  more  than  suflSeient ;  but  to  win  this 
honest  heart,  your  offer  is  not  too  great. " 

"But  is  it  enough?" 

"It  is." 

"  Now,  all  that  we  need  is  some  sure,  cunning  messenger  to  send 
to  him  ;  a  man  whose  heart  and  head,  soul  and  body  are  bound  up 
in  the  cause  he  advocates.  General,  where  shall  we  find  such  a 
man?" 

General  Riedt  laughed.  "I  thought  your  royal  highness  had 
already  found  him." 

The  princess  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"Ah,"  cried  she,  "the  jeweller;  the  man  who  brought  me  the 
cup ;  who  referred  me  to  you  in  so  wise  and  discreet  a  manner. " 

"I  think  you  desired  him  to  return  early  to-morrow  morning?" 

" How  do  you  know  that?    Are  you  acquainted  with  him?" 

General  Riedt  bowed  smilingly.  "I  ventured  to  send  him  to 
your  royal  highness. " 

"  Ah !  I  now  understand  it  all,  and  must  acknowledge  that  the 
jeweller  is  as  great  a  negotiator  as  you  are  a  diplomatist.  The  cu  ' 
I  showed  you,  you  sent  to  m??" 


514        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"I  received  it  from  the  Governor  of  Magdeburg,  the  Landgrave 
of  Hesse ;  as  I  could  do  nothing  with  it,  I  ventured  to  send  it  to 
your  royal  highness. " 

"And  I  thank  you,  general,  for  sending  it  in  so  discreet,  so  wise 
a  manner.  We  may,  perhaps,  succeed  in  keeping  all  this  secret 
from  my  brother,  so  that  he  cannot  act  against  us.  Hasten  away, 
general,  and  give  the  jeweller,  or  whatever  else  he  may  be,  his  in- 
structions.    Send  him  to  me  early  in  the  morning  for  his  reward. "  * 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    ROYAL    HOUSE-SPY. 

The  next  morning,  a  carriage  drew  up  before  the  garden  of  Sans- 
Souci,  and  a  gentleman,  in  a  glittering,  embroidered  court  uniform, 
crept  out  Slowly  and  with  much  difficulty.  Coughing  and  murmur- 
ing peevisli  words  to  himself,  he  slipped  into  the  allee  leading  to  the 
terraces.  His  ttaclc  was  bent,  and  from  imder  the  three-cornered 
hat,  ornamented  with  rich  gold  lace,  came  sparsely,  here  and  there, 
a  few  silver  hairs.  Who  could  have  recognized,  in  this  doubled -up, 
decrepit  form,  now  with  tottering  knees  creeping  up  the  terrace, 
the  once  gay,  careless,  unconcerned  grand-master  of  ceremonies. 
Baron  von  Pollnitz?  Who  could  have  supposed  that  this  old  weather- 
beaten  visage,  deformed  with  a  thousand  wrinkles,  once  belonged 
to  the  dashing  cavalier?  And  yet,  it  was  even  so.  Pollnitz  had 
grown  old,  and  his  back  was  bowed  down  under  the  yoke  which  the 
monster  Time  lays  at  last  upon  humanity  ;  but  his  spirit  remained 
unchanged.  He  had  preserved  his  vivacity,  his  malice,  his  egotism. 
He  had  the  same  passion  for  gold — much  gold  ;  not,  however,  to 
hoard,  but  to  lavish.  His  life  was  ever  divided  between  base  covet- 
ousness  and  thoughtless  prodigality.  When  he  had  revelled  and 
gormandized  through  the  first  days  of  every  month,  he  was  forced, 
during  the  last  weeks,  to  suffer  privation  and  hunger,  or  to  borrow 
from  those  who  were  good-natured  and  credulous  enough  to  lend 
him.  Tliere  was  also  one  other  source  of  revenue  which  the  adroit 
courtier  knew  how  to  use  to  his  advantage.  He  was  a  splendid 
^arfeplayer ;  and,  as  it  was  his  duty,  as  grand -master  of  ceremonies, 
to  provide  amusements  for  the  court,  to  choose  places  and  partners 
for  the  card-tables,  he  always  arranged  it  so  as  to  bring  himself  in 
contact  with  wealthy  and  eager  card-players,  from  some  of  whom 

*  The  princess  succeeded  in  winning  the  influence  of  the  flreman.  How  he  suc- 
ceeded with  the  empress,  can  be  seen  {n  "Tbi6bauU"8  Souvenirs  de  Vlngt  Ane," 
VQlfiYt 


THE  feOYAL  HOUSE-SPY.  515 

he  could  win,  and  from  others  borrow  a  few  louis  d'or.  Besides 
this,  since  the  return  of  the  king,  Polhaitz  had  voluntarily  taken  up 
his  old  trade  of  spy,  and  informed  Frederick  of  all  he  saw  and  heard 
at  court ;  for  tliis,  from  time  to  time,  he  demanded  a  small  reward. 

•'  Curious  idea, "  he  said,  as,  puflSng  and  blowing,  he  clambered 
up  the  terrace.  "Curious  idea  to  live  in  this  wearisome  desert, 
when  he  has  respectable  and  comfortable  castles  in  the  midst  of  the 
city,  and  on  a  level  plain.  One  might  truly  think  that  the  king, 
even  in  life,  wishes  to  draw  nearer  to  heaven,  and  withdraws  from 
the  children  of  man,  to  pray  and  prepare  himself  for  paradise. " 

The  baron  laughed  aloud  ;  it  seemed  to  him  a  droll  idea  to  look 
at  the  king  as  a  prayerful  hermit.  This  conception  amused  him, 
and  gave  him  sti-ength  to  go  onward  more  rapidly,  and  he  soon 
reached  the  upper  platform  of  the  teiTace,  upon  which  the  castle 
stood.  Without  difficulty,  he  advanced  to  the  antechamber,  but 
there  stood  Deesen,  and  forbade  him  entrance  to  the  king. 

"His  majesty  holds  a  cabinet  council,"  said  he,  "and  it  is  ex- 
pressly commanded  to  allow  no  one  to  enter. " 

"Then  I  will  force  an  entrance, "  said  PoUaitz,  stepping  boldly 
to  the  door.  "I  must  speak  to  his  majesty  ;  I  have  something  most 
impoitant  to  communicate. " 

"  I  think  it  cannot  be  more  important  than  that  which  now  occu- 
pies the  king's  attention,"  said  the  intrepid  Deesen.  "I  am  com- 
manded to  allow  no  one  to  enter ;  I  shall  obey  the  order  of  the  king. " 

"I  am  resolved  to  enter,"  said  PoUnitz,  in  a  loud  voice;  but 
Deesen  spread  his  broad  figure  threateningly  before  the  door.  An 
angry  dispute  arose,  and  PoUnitz  made  his  screeching  voice  resound 
so  powerfully,  he  might  well  hope  the  king  would  hear  him,  and  in 
this  he  was  not  deceived ;  the  king  heard  and  appeared  at  once  upon 
the  threshold. 

"PoUnitz,"  said  he,  "you  are  and  will  always  be  an  incorrigible 
fool ;  you  are  crowing  as  loud  as  a  Gallic  cock,  who  is  declaring  war 
against  my  people.  I  have  made  peace  with  the  Gauls,  mark  that, 
and  do  not  dare  again  to  crow  so  loud.  What  do  you  want?  Do 
your  creditors  wish  to  cast  you  in  prison,  or  do  you  wish  to  inform 
me  that  you  have  become  a  Jew,  and  wish  to  accept  some  lucrative 
place  as  Rabbi  ?" 

"No,  sire,  I  remain  a  reformed  Christian,  and  my  creditors  will 
never  take  the  trouble  to  arrest  me ;  they  know  that  would  avail 
nothing.  I  come  on  most  grave  and  important  matters  of  business, 
and  I  pray  your  majesty  to  grant  me  a  private  audience. " 

Frederick  looked  sternly  at  him.  "Listen,  PoUnitz,  you  are  still 
a  long-winded  and  doubtful  companion,  notwithstanding  your  sev- 
enty-six years.     Deliberate  a  moment ;  if  that  which  you  tell  me  is 


516       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

not  important,  and  requiring  speedy  attention,  I  will  punish  you 
severely  for  having  dared  to  interrupt  me  in  my  cabinet  council ;  I 
will  withhold  your  salary  for  the  next  month. " 

"  Your  majesty,  the  business  is  weighty,  and  requires  immediate 
attention  ;  I  stake  my  salary  upon  it. " 

"Come,  then,  into  my  cabinet,  but  be  brief,"  said  Frederick, 
stepping  into  the  adjoining  room.  "Now  sf>eak,"  said  he,  as  he 
closed  the  door. 

"  Sire,  first,  I  must  ask  your  pardon  for  daring  to  allude  to  a  sub- 
ject which  is  so  old  that  its  teeth  are  shaky  and  its  countenance 
wrinkled. " 

"You  wish,  then,  to  speak  of  yourself?"  said  Frederick. 

"  No,  sire ;  I  will  speak  of  a  subject  which  bloomed  before  the 
war,  and  since  then  has  withered  and  faded  in  a  subteiTanean 
prison  ;  but  it  now  threatens  to  put  forth  new  buds,  to  unfold  new 
leaves,  and  I  fear  your  majesty  will  find  that  undesirable. " 

"Speak,  then,  clearly,  and  without  circumlocution.  I  am  con- 
vinced it  is  only  some  gossiping  or  slander  you  wish  to  retail.  You 
come  as  a  salaried  family  spy  who  has  snapped  up  some  greasy  mor- 
sels of  scandal.  Your  eyes  are  glowing  with  malicious  pleasure,  as 
they  always  do  when  you  are  about  to  commit  some  base  trick. 
Now,  then,  out  with  it !    Of  whom  will  you  speak?" 

"Of  the  Princess  Amelia  and  Trenck, "  whispered  Pollnitz. 

Tlie  king  gazed  at  him  fiercely  for  a  moment,  then  turned  and 
walked  silently  backward  and  forward. 

"Well,  what  is  your  narrative?"  said  Frederick,  at  last,  turning 
his  back  upon  Pollnitz,  and  stepping  to  the  window  as  if  to  look  out. 

"Sire,  if  your  majesty  does  not  interfere,  the  Princess  Amelia 
will  send  a  negotiator  to  Vienna,  who  undertakes  to  induce  the 
Empress  Maria  Theresa  to  apply  to  you  for  the  release  of  Trenck. 
This  negotiator  is  richly  provided  with  gold  and  instructions  ;  and 
the  Austrian  ambassador  has  pointed  out  to  the  princess  a  sure  way 
to  reach  the  ear  of  the  empress,  and  to  obtain  an  intercessor  with 
her.  She  will  appeal  to  the  fireman  of  the  empress,  and  this  influ- 
ential man  will  undertake  to  entreat  Maria  Theresa  to  ask  for 
Trenck's  release.  This  will  take  place  immediately  ;  an  hour  since 
the  messenger  received  his  instructions  from  General  Riedt,  and  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  since  he  received  four  thousand  louis  d'or  from 
the  princess  to  bribe  the  fireman.  If  the  intrigue  succeeds,  the 
princess  has  promised  him  a  thousand  louis  d'or  for  himself." 

"Go  on,"  said  the  king,  as  Pollnitz  ceased  speaking. 

"Go  on!"  said  Pollnitz,  with  a  stupefied  air.  "I  have  nothing 
more  to  say  ;  it  seems  to  me  the  history  is  sufficiently  important. " 

"And  it  seemg  to  me  a  silly  fairy  tale,"  said  Frederick,  turning 


THE  ROYAL  HOUSE-SPY.  517 

angrily  upon  the  grand-master.  "If  you  think  to  squeeze  gold  out 
of  me  by  such  ridiculous  and  senseless  narratives,  you  are  greatly 
mistaken.  Not  one  farthing  will  I  pay  for  these  lies.  Do  you 
think  that  Austria  lies  on  the  borders  of  Tartary?  There,  a  barber 
is  minister  ;  and  you,  forsooth,  will  make  a  fireman  the  confidential 
friend  of  the  empress !  Why,  Scheherezade  would  not  have  dared 
to  relate  such  an  absurd  fairy  tale  to  her  sleepy  sultan,  as  you,  sir, 
now  seek  to  impose  upon  me !" 

"But,  sire,  it  is  no  fairytale,  but  the  unvarnished  truth.  The 
page  of  the  princess  listened,  and  immediately  repeated  all  that  he 
heard  to  me. " 

"  Have  you  paid  the  page  for  this  intelligence,  which  he  asserts 
he  overheard?" 

"No,  sire." 

"  Then  go  quickly  to  Berlin  and  reward  him  by  two  sound  boxes 
on  the  ear,  then  go  to  bed  and  drink  chamomile  tea.  It  appears  to 
me  your  head  is  weak. " 

"  But,  sire,  I  have  told  you  nothing  but  the  pure  truth  ;  no  matter 
how  fabulous  it  may  appear. " 

Frederick  gazed  at  him  scornfully.  "  It  is  a  silly  tale, "  he  cried, 
in  a  loud  commanding  voice.  "  Do  not  say  another  word,  and  do 
not  dare  to  repeat  to  any  one  what  you  have  now  relaited.  Go,  I 
say  I  and  forget  this  nonsense. " 

Pollnitz  crept  sighing  and  with  bowed  head  to  the  door,  but,  be- 
fore he  opened  it,  he  turned  once  more  to  the  king. 

"Sire,  this  is  the  last  day  of  the  month,  this  wretched  October 
has  thirty -one  days.  Even  if  in  your  majesty's  wisdom  you  decide 
this  story  to  be  untrue,  you  should  at  least  remember  my  zeal. " 

"I  should  reward  you  for  your  zeal  in  doing  evil?"  said  Fred- 
erick, shaking  his  head.  "  But  truly  this  is  the  way  of  the  world  ; 
evil  is  rewarded  and  good  actions  trodden  under  foot.  You  are  not 
worth  a  kick  !  Go  and  get  your  reward  ;  tell  my  servant  to  give  you 
ten  Fredericks  d'or — but  on  one  condition." 

"  What  condition  ?"  said  Pollnitz,  joyfully. 

"  As  soon  as  you  arrive  in  Berlin,  go  to  the  castle,  call  the  page  of 
the  princess,  and  box  him  soundly  for  his  villany.     Go  !" 

The  king  stood  sunk  in  deep  thought  in  the  window-niche,  long 
after  PoUnitz  had  left  the  room ;  he  app)eared  to  forget  that  his 
ministers  were  waiting  for  him  ;  he  thought  of  his  sister  Amelia's 
long,  sad  life,  of  her  constancy  and  resignation,  and  a  profound  and 
painful  pity  filled  his  heart. 

"  Surely  I  dare  at  length  grant  her  the  poor  consolation  of  having 
brought  about  his  release, "  said  he  to  himself.  "  She  has  been  so 
long  aod  so  terribly  punished  for  this  ushappy  passion,  th?i-t  I  will 


618        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

give  her  the  consolation  of  plucking  a  few  scentless  blossoms  from  the 
grave  of  her  heart.  Let  her  turn  to  the  fireman  of  the  empress,  and 
may  my  pious  aunt  be  warmed  up  by  his  representations  and  prayers ! 
I  will  not  interfere ;  and  if  Maria  Theresa  intercedes  for  Trenck,  I 
will  not  remember  tliat  he  is  a  rebellious  subject  and  a  traitor, 
worthy  of  death.  I  will  remember  that  Amelia  has  suffered  inex- 
pressibly for  his  sake,  that  her  life  is  lonely  and  desolate — a  horrible 
night,  in  which  one  feeble  ray  of  sunshine  may  siirely  be  allowed  t© 
fall.     Poor  Amelia  !  she  loves  him  still !" 

As  Frederick  stepped  from  the  window  and  passed  into  the  other 
room,  he  murmured  to  himself  : 

"There  is  something  beautiful  in  a  great,  rich  human  heart. 
Better  to  die  of  grief  and  disappointment  than  to  be  made  insensi- 
ble by  scorn  and  disdain — to  be  turned  to  stone !" 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  CLOUDS   GATHER. 

While  the  king  lived  alone  and  quiet  in  Sans-Souci,  and  occu- 
pied himself  with  his  studies  and  his  government,  the  gayeties  and 
festivities  continued  uninterrupted  in  Rheinsberg.  It  seemed  that 
Prince  Henry  had  no  other  thought,  no  other  desire  than  to  prepare 
new  pleasures,  new  amusements  for  his  wife.  His  life  had  been 
given  up  for  so  many  years  to  earnest  cares,  that  he  now  sought  to 
indemnify  himself  by  an  eager  pursuit  after  pleasure.  FUe  suc- 
ceeded/efe,  and  all  of  the  most  elegant  and  accomplished  persons  in 
Berlin,  all  those  who  had  any  claim  to  youth,  beauty,  and  amia- 
bility, were  invariably  welcome  at  the  palace  of  the  prince. 

It  was  late  in  the  autumn,  and  Prince  Henry  had  determined  to 
conclude  the  long  succession  of  wood  and  garden  parties  by  a  singu- 
lar and  fantastic  entertainment.  Before  they  returned  to  the  sa- 
loons,  the  winter-quarters  of  pleasure,  they  wished  to  bid  farewell 
to  Nature.  The  nymphs  of  the  wood  and  the  spring,  the  hamadryads 
of  the  forests,  the  fauns  and  satyrs  should  reign  once  more  in  the 
woods  before  they  placed  the  sceptre  in  the  hands  of  winter.  The 
guests  of  Rheinsberg  should  once  more  enjoy  the  careless  gayety  of 
a  happy  day,  before  they  returned  to  the  winter  saloons,  on  whose 
threshold  Etiquette  awaited  them,  with  her  forced  smile,  her  robes 
of  ceremony  and  her  orders  and  titles. 

The  ladies  and  gentlemen  had  been  transformed,  therefore,  into 
igods  and  goddesses,  nymphs,  and  hamadryads,  fauns,  satyrs,  and 
wood-spirits.    The  horo  of  Diana  resounded  once  more  in  the  wood, 


THE  CLOtJDS  GATHER.  519 

through  which  the  enchanting  huntress  passed,   accompanied  by 
Endymion,  who  was  pursued  by  Actaeon.     There  was  Apollo  and. 
the  charming  Daphne ;   Echo  and  the  vain  Narcissus  ;  and,  on  the 
bank  of  the  lake,  which  gleamed  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  the 
water-nymphs  danced  in  a  fairy-circle  with  the  tritons. 

The  prince  had  himself  made  all  the  arrangements  for  this  fan- 
tastic f^te;  he  had  selected  the  character,  and  appointed  the  place  of 
every  one,  and,  that  nothing  should  fail,  he  had  ordered  ail  to  seek 
their  pleasures  and  adventures  as  they  would — only,  when  the  horn 
of  the  goddess  Diana  should  sound,  all  must  appear  on  the  shore  of 
the  lake  to  partake  of  a  most  luxurious  meal.  The  remainder  of  the 
day  was  to  be  given  to  the  voluntaiy  pleasures  which  each  one  would 
seek  or  make  for  himself,  and  in  this  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
showed  themselves  more  ingenious  than  usual.  In  eveiy  direction 
goddesses  were  to  be  seen  gliding  through  the  bushes  to  escape  the 
snares  of  some  god,  or  seeking  some  agreeable  rendezvous.  At  the 
edge  of  the  lake  lay  charming  gondolas  ready  for  those  who  wished 
to  rest  and  refresh  themselves  by  a  sail  upon  the  dancing  waves. 
For  the  hunters  and  hunti-esses  targets  were  placed  upon  the  trees ; 
all  kinds  of  fire-arms  and  cross-bows  and  arrows  lay  near  them. 
Scattered  throughout  the  forest,  were  a  number  of  small  huts,  en- 
tirely covered  with  the  bark  of  trees,  and  looking  like  a  mass  of 
fallen  wood,  but  comfortably  and  even  elegantly  arranged  in  the 
interior.  Everj'  one  of  these  huts  was  numbered,  and  at  the  begin- 
ning of  Wiefete  every  lady  had  drawn  a  number  from  an  urn,  which 
was  to  designate  the  hut  which  belonged  to  her.  Chance  alone  had 
decided,  and  each  one  had  given  her  word  not  to  betray  the  number 
of  her  cabin.  From  this  arose  a  seeking  and  spying,  a  following 
and  listening,  which  gave  a  peculiar  charm  to  the  f^te.  Every 
nymph  or  goddess  could  find  a  refuge  in  her  cabin  ;  having  entered 
it,  it  was  only  necessary  to  display  the  ivy  wreath,  which  she  found 
within,  to  protect  herself  from  any  fui-ther  pursuit,  for  this  wreath 
announced  to  all  that  the  mistress  of  the  hut  had  retired  within  and 
did  not  wish  her  solitude  disturbed.  That  nothing  might  mar  the 
harmony  of  this  fete,  the  prince  and  his  wife  had  placed  themselves 
on  an  equal  footing  with  their  guests ;  the  princess  had  declined 
any  conspicuous  role,  and  was  to  appear  in  the  simple  but  chanuing 
costume  of  a  wood-nymph,  while  the  prince  had  selected  an  ideal 
and  fanciful  hunter's  costume.  Even  in  the  selection  of  huts  the 
Princess  Wilhelmina  had  refused  to  make  any  choice,  and  had 
drawn  her  number  as  the  others  did,  even  refusing  a  glimpse  of  it  to 
her  husband. 

This  day  seemed  given  up  to  joy  and  pleasure.  Every  counte- 
nance was  bright  and  smiling,  and  the  wood  resounded  with  merry 


520       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

laughter,  with  the  tones  of  the  hunter's  horn,  the  baying  of  th6 
hounds,  which  were  in  Diana's  train,  and  the  singing  of  sweet 
songs.  And  still  on  how  many  faces  the  smile  was  assumed,  how 
many  sighs  arose,  with  how  many  cares  and  sorrows  were  many  of 
these  apparently  happy  creatures  weighed  down  ?  Even  the  noble 
brow  of  the  goddess  Diana  was  not  so  unruffled  as  Homer  describes 
it,  her  countenance  expressed  care  and  unrest,  and  in  her  great 
black  eyes  there  glowed  such  fire  as  had  never  shone  in  the  orbs  of 
the  coy  goddess. 

See,  there  is  the  goddess  Diana  crossing  the  wood  breathlessly, 
and  hurriedly,  looking  anxiously  around  her,  as  if  she  feared  the 
approach  of  some  pursuers ;  then  seeing  that  no  one  is  near,  she 
hastens  forward  toward  the  hut,  which  stands  amidst  those  bushes. 
The  ivy  wreath  is  hanging  before  this  cabin,  but  Diana  does  not 
notice  this,  she  knows  what  it  means  and,  besides,  no  one  has  a 
right  to  enter  this  hut  but  herself,  for  it  bears  the  number  which 
she  drew. 

As  she  entered,  Endymion,  the  beautiful  hunter,  advanced  to 
greet  her.  "At  length  you  have  come,  Camilla,"  he  whispered, 
gently;  "at  length  you  grant  me  the  happiness  of  a  private  inter- 
view. Oh,  it  is  an  eternity  since  I  beheld  you.  You  are  very  cruel 
to  me  to  refuse  me  all  intercourse  with  you,  and  to  leave  me  lan- 
guishing in  the  distance  for  one  glance  from  you. " 

"  As  if  it  depended  on  me  to  allow  you  to  approach  me.  As  if  I 
was  not  guarded  with  argus  eyes  as  a  prisoner  that  is  expected  to 
break  loose  and  vanish  at  any  moment.  How  much  trouble,  how 
much  cunning  and  deftness  have  I  been  compelled  to  exercise  to 
come  here  now.  It  was  a  detestable  idea  of  the  princess  to  give  me 
the  rdle  of  Diana,  for  I  have  behind  me  a  band  of  spies,  and  I  assure 
you  that  my  coy  huntresses  are  so  fearfully  modest,  that  the  sight  of 
a  man  fills  them  with  dread,  and  they  flee  before  him  into  the  wild- 
est thicket  of  the  woods. " 

"  Perhaps  because  they  have  a  lover  concealed  in  the  thicket, " 
said  Endymion. 

Camilla  laughed  aloud.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right.  But  when  my 
huntresses  fly,  there  still  remains  that  horrible  argus  who  guards 
me  with  his  thousand  eyes  and  never  leaves  my  side.  It  was  frona 
pure  malice  that  the  prince  gave  that  rdle  to  my  detestable  step- 
father, and  thus  fastened  him  upon  me. " 

"How  did  you  succeed  in  escaping  the  watchfulness  of  your 
argus  to  come  here?" 

"I  escaped  at  the  moment  the  princess  was  speaking  to  him,  and 
my  huntresses  were  pursuing  Actaeon,  which  character  the  Baroa 
von  Kaphengst  was  representing  with  much  humor.     I  wanted  to 


THE  CLOUDS  GATHER.  621 

speak  with  you,  for  I  have  so  mucli  to  relate  to  you.  I  must  open 
to  you  my  broken,  my  unhappy  heart.  You  are  my  dear,  faithful 
cousin  Kindar,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  leave  your  poor  cousin,  but 
give  her  counsel  and  assistance. " 

Baron  von  Kindar  took  Camilla's  offered  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  lips.  "Count  upon  me  as  upon  your  faithful  slave,  who  would 
gladly  die  for  you,  as  he  cannot  live  for  your  sake. " 

"  Listen  then,  beau  cousin, "  whispered  Camilla,  smiling.  "  You 
know  that  my  stem,  upright  husband  has  left  Berlin  in  order 
to  receive  the  post  of  an  ambassador  at  Copenhagen.  I  would  not 
accompany  him  because  I  was  daily  expecting  the  birth  of  my  child, 
and  the  little  creature  was  so  sensible  as  not  to  enter  the  world  until 
after  the  departure  of  its  honored  father,  who,  before  leaving,  had 
delivered  me  a  lecture  on  the  subject  of  his  fidelity  and  tenderness, 
and  of  my  duties  as  a  lonely  wife  and  young  mother.  I  was  com- 
pelled to  swear  to  him  among  other  things  that  I  would  not  receive 
my  beau  cousin  at  my  house. " 

"And  you  took  that  oath?"  interrupted  Kindar,  reproachfully 

"  I  was  forced  to  do  so,  or  he  would  not  have  gone,  or  he  would 
have  taken  me  with  him.  Besides  this,  he  left  behind  his  old  con- 
fidant the  tutor,  and  told  him  that  you  should  never  be  allowed  to 
visit  me.  And  to  place  the  crown  upon  his  jealousy,  he  betrayed 
the  secret  of  his  suspicions  to  my  stepfather,  and  demanded  of  him 
the  friendly  service  of  accompanying  me  to  all  f^tes  and  balls,  and 
to  prevent  you  from  approaching  me. " 

"Am  I  then  so  dangerous?"  said  Kindar,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  These  gentlemen  at  least  appear  to  think  so  ;  and  if  I  did  not 
care  so  much  for  you,  I  should  really  hate  you,  I  have  suffered  so 
much  on  your  account. " 

Baron  von  Kindar  covered  her  hand  with  burning  kisses  for  an 
answer  to  this. 

"  Be  reasonable,  beau  cousin,  and  listen  to  me, "  said  Camilla,  as 
she  laughingly  withdrew  her  hand.  "My  husband  has  been,  as  I 
said,  in  Copenhagen  for  eight  weeks,  and  has  already  entreated  me 
to  join  him  with  the  child,  as  I  have  entirely  recovered. " 

"The  barbarian  !"  murmured  Kindar. 

"I  have  declined  up  to  this  time  under  one  pretext  or  another. 
But  yesterday  I  receieved  a  lettr  from  my  husband,  in  which  he 
no  longer  entreats  me,  but  dares,  as  he  himself  expresses  it,  to 
command  me  to  leave  Berlin  two  days  after  the  receipt  of  his 
letter." 

"  But  that  is  tyranny  which  passes  all  bounds, "  cried  Kindar. 
"Does   this  wise  lord  think  that  his  wife   must   obey  him  as  a 
slave?    Ah.  Camilla,  you  owe  it  to  yourself  to  show  him  that  you 
34  . 


6n       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

are  a  free-born  woman,  wliom  no  one  dare  command,  not  even  a 
husband. " 

"How  shall  I  show  him  that?"  asked  Camilla. 

"By  remaining  here,"  whispered  Kindar.  "You  dare  not  think 
of  leaving  Berlin,  for  you  know  that  the  hour  of  your  departure 
would  be  the  hour  of  my  death.  You  know  it,  for  you  have  long 
known  that  I  love  you  entirely,  and  that  you  owe  me  some  recom- 
pense for  the  cruel  pain  I  suffered  when  you  married  another. " 

"And  in  what  shall  this  recompense  consist?"  asked  Camilla 
with  a  coquettish  smile. 

Baron  von  Kindar  placing  his  arm  around  her,  whispered  :  "  By 
remaining  here,  adored  Camilla,  for  my  sake — in  declaring  to  your 
hated  husband  that  you  will  leave  Berlin  on  no  account — that  your 
honor  demands  that  you  should  prove  to  him  in  the  face  of  his  brutal 
commands,  that  these  are  no  commands  for  you — and  that  you  will 
follow  your  own  will  and  inclination.  Therefore  you  will  remain 
in  Berlin. " 

"Will  you  write  this  letter  for  meV" 

''  If  I  do  so,  will  you  consent  to  remain  here,  and  to  open  your 
door  to  me  in  spite  of  the  orders  of  your  husband,  or  the  argus-eyea 
of  your  stepfather?" 

"Write  the  letter,  the  rest  will  arrange  itself, "  said  Camilla. 

"I  will  write  it  to-night.  May  I  bring  it  to  you  myself  to-mor- 
row morning?" 

"  If  I  say  no,  will  you  then  be  so  kind  as  to  give  it  to  my  maid?" 

"I  swear  by  my  honor  that  I  will  only  give  the  letter  into  your 
own  hands. " 

"Well,  then,  my  tyrannical  cousin,  you  force  me  to  open  my  door 
to  you  in  spite  of  my  husband  and  my  stepfather,  and  in  the  face  of 
this  Cerberus  of  a  tutor  who  guards  my  stronghold. " 

"  But  what  do  I  care  for  these  open  doors  so  long  as  your  heart 
remains  closed  against  me,  Camilla?  Ah,  you  laugh — you  mock  at 
my  sufferings.  Have  you  no  pity,  no  mercy?  You  see  what  I 
suffer,  and  you  laugh. " 

"  I  laugh, "  she  whispered,  "  because  you  are  so  silly,  beau  cousin. 
But  listen,  there  is  the  call  of  my  huntresses — I  must  hasten  to 
them,  or  they  will  surround  this  cabin  and  they  might  enter.  Fare- 
well. To-morrow  I  will  expect  you  with  the  letter.  Adieu. " 
Throwing  him  a  kiss  with  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  she  hastily  left 
the  hut. 

Baron  von  Kindar  looked  after  her  with  a  singular  smile.  "  She 
is  mine, "  he  whispered.  "  We  will  have  a  charming  little  romance, 
but  it  will  terminate  in  a  divorce,  and  not  in  a  marriage.  I  have 
no  idea  of  following  up  this  divorce  by  a  marriage.     God  protect 


THE  CLOUDS  GATHER.  '  623 

me  from  being  forced  to  many  this  beautiful,  frivolous,  coquettish 
woman. " 

While  this  scene  was  taking  place  in  one  part  of  the  forest,  the 
fite  continued  gayly.  They  sang  and  laughed,  and  jested,  and  no 
one  dreamed  that  dark  sin  was  casting  its  cold  shadow  over  this 
bright  scene — that  the  cowardly  crime  of  treachery  had  already  poi- 
soned the  pure  air  of  this  forest.  None  suspected  it  less  than  Prince 
Henry  himself.  He  was  happy  and  content  that  this /^fe  had  suc- 
ceeded so  well — that  this  bright  autumn  day  had  come  opportunely 
to  his  aid.  The  sun  penetrated  to  his  heart  and  made  it  warm  and 
joyous.  He  had  just  made  a  little  tour  througli  the  forest  with  some 
of  his  cavaliers,  and  had  returned  to  the  tent  on  the  bank  of  the 
lake,  where  he  had  last  seen  the  princess  amid  a  bevy  of  nymphs, 
but  she  was  no  longer  there,  and  none  of  the  ladies  knew  where  sh* 
had  gone. 

"  She  has  retired  to  her  hut, "  said  the  prince  to  himself,  as  he 
turned  smilingly  toward  the  thick  woods.  "The  only  thing  is  to 
discover  her  hut ;  without  doubt  she  is  there  and  expects  me  to  seek 
her.  Now,  then,  may  fortune  assist  me  to  discover  my  beloved.  I 
must  find  her  if  only  to  prove  to  her  that  my  love  can  overcome  all 
difficulties  and  penetrate  every  mystery.  There  are  twenty-four 
huts — I  know  their  situation.  I  will  visit  each,  and  it  will  be 
strange  indeed  if  I  cannot  discover  my  beautiful  Wilhelmina. " 

He  advanced  with  hasty  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  huts.  By 
a  singular  coincidence  they  were  all  vacant,  the  ivy  wreath  was  dis- 
played on  none,  and  the  prince  could  enter  and  convince  himself 
that  no  one  was  within.  He  had  visited  twenty-three  of  the  huts 
without  finding  the  object  of  his  search.  "  I  will  go  to  the  last  one, " 
said  the  prince,  gayly  ;  "  perhaps  the  gods  have  led  me  astray  only 
that  I  might  find  happiness  at  the  end  of  my  path. "  He  saw  the 
last  hut  in  the  distance.  It  nestled  in  the  midst  of  low  bushes, 
looking  quiet  and  undisturbed,  and  on  the  door  hung  the  ivy  wreath. 
The  heart  of  the  prince  beat  with  joy,  and  he  murmured,  "  She  is 
there — I  have  found  her, "  as  he  hastened  toward  the  hut.  "  No, "  he 
said,  "I  dare  not  surprise  her.  I  must  consider  the  law  sacred 
which  I  made.  The  ivy  wreath  is  before  the  door — no  one  da:? 
enter.  But  I  will  lie  down  before  the  door,  and  when  she  comes 
out  she  roust  cross  my  body  or  fall  into  my  arms."  Tlie  prince  ap- 
proached the  hut  quietly,  careful  to  avoid  making  any  noise. 
When  he  had  reached  it,  he  sank  slowly  upon  the  grass,  and  turned 
his  eyes  upon  the  door,  which  concealed  his  beloved  one  from  his 
view. 

Deep  silence  reigned.  This  was  a  chaxTning  spot,  just  suited  for 
^  tendf»r  rendezvous,  and  full  of  that  sweet  silence  which  speaks?  so 


624       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

eloquently  to  a  loving  heart.  In  the  distance  could  be  heard  the 
sound  of  the  hunter's  horn,  whilst  the  great  trees  rustled  their  leaves 
as  though  they  wished  to  mingle  their  notes  in  the  universal  anthem. 
The  prince  gave  himself  up  for  a  long  time  to  the  sweet  pleasures  of 
this  solitude,  turning  his  smiling  glance  first  to  the  heavens  where 
a  few  white  clouds  were  floating,  and  then  again  to  earth,  where 
some  glittering  insect  attracted  his  gaze. 

But  what  w^as  it  which  pierced  through  him  with  a  deadly  horror 
— which  made  him  become  so  pale,  and  turn  his  flashing  eyes  with 
an  indescribable  expression  of  dread  toward  the  hut?  Why  did  he 
partially  arise  from  his  reclining  position  as  the  Imnter  does,  who 
sees  the  prey  approach  that  he  wishes  to  desti'oy  ?  What  was  it  that 
made  him  press  his  lips  so  tightly,  one  against  the  other,  as  if  he 
would  repress  a  cry  of  agony,  or  an  execration  ?  And  why  does  he 
listen  now  with  bated  breath,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  hut,  and  both 
hands  raised,  as  if  to  threaten  an  approaching  enemy  ?  Suddenly 
he  sprang  up,  and  rushed  trembling  to  the  door,  and,  while  in  the 
act  of  bursting  it  open,  he  fell  back,  pale  as  death,  as  if  his  foot  had 
trodden  upon  a  poisonous  serpent.  Thus  retreating,  with  wildly 
staring  eyes,  with  half-open  lips,  which  seemed  stiffened  in  the  very 
act  of  uttering  a  shriek,  he  slowly  left  the  hut,  and  then  suddenly, 
as  if  he  could  no  longer  look  at  any  thing  so  frightful,  he  turned  and 
fled  from  the  spot  as  if  pursued  by  furies.  Farther,  always  farther, 
until  his  strength  and  his  breath  were  exhausted ;  then  he  sank 
down. 

"  It  was  cowardly  to  fly, "  he  murmured  ;  "  but  I  felt  that  I  should 
murder  them,  if  they  came  out  of  the  hut  before  my  eyes.  A  voice 
within  whispered,  'Fly,  or  you  will  be  a  murderer!*  I  obeyed  it 
almost  against  my  will.  It  was  cowardly — an  unpardonable  error, 
but  I  will  return  to  the  hut. " 

He  sprang  forward  like  a  tiger,  ready  to  fall  upon  his  prey.  His 
hand  involuntarily  sought  his  side  for  his  sword. 

"  Ah,  I  have  no  weapon, "  he  said,  gnashing  his  teeth,  "  I  must 
murder  them  with  my  hands. " 

He  advanced  with  uplifted  head,  defiant  as  a  conqueror,  or  as 
one  who  has  overcome  death  and  has  nothing  to  fear.  The  hut  was 
again  before  him,  but  it  no  longer  smiled  at  him  ;  it  filled  him  with 
horror  and  fury.  Now  he  has  reached  it,  and  with  one  blow  he 
bursts  open  the  door ;  but  it  is  empty.  The  prince  had  not  remarked 
that  the  ivy -wreath  was  no  longer  displayed,  and  that  the  hut  was 
therefore  vacant. 

**Tliey  are  gone,"  he  murmured.  "This  time  they  have  escaped 
pBBJgbment,  but  it  surely  awaits  them, " 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  625 

CHAPTER    IX. 

BROTHER    AND    SISTER. 

A  MONTH  had  passed  since  Amelia  dispatched  her  emissary  to  the 
queen's  fireman,  and  she  had  as  yet  received  no  definite  intelli- 
gence. General  Riedt  had  called  but  once  ;  he  told  her  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  interesting  the  Savoyard  in  Trenck's  fate,  and  he  had 
promised  to  remind  the  empress  of  the  unfortunate  prisoner.  But  a 
condition  must  be  attached  to  this  promise  :  no  one  must  approach 
him  again  on  this  subject ;  it  must  be  kept  an  iuTiolable  secret. 
Only  when  Trenck  was'  free  would  the  fireman  receive  the  other 
half  of  the  stipulated  sum ;  if  he  failed  in  his  attempt,  he  would 
return  the  money  he  now  held. 

This  was  all  that  the  princess  had  heard  from  Vienna ;  her  heart 
was  sorrowful — almost  hopeless.  Trenck  still  sat  in  his  wretched 
prison  at  Magdeburg,  and  she  scarcely  dared  hope  for  his  release. 

It  was  a  dark,  tempestuous  November  day.  The  princess  stood 
at  the  window,  gazing  at  the  whirling  snow-flakes,  and  listening  to 
the  howling  of  the  pitiless  storm.  They  sounded  to  her  like  the 
raging  shrieks  of  mocking,  contending  spirits,  and  filled  her  heart 
with  malignant  joy. 

"Many  ships  will  go  down  to  destruction  in  the  roaring  sea; 
many  men  will  lose  all  that  they  possess, "  she  murmured,  with  a 
coarse  laugh.  "Godsends  His  favorite  daughter,  the  bride  of  the 
winds ;  she  sings  a  derisive  song  to  men ;  she  shows  them  how 
weak,  how  pitiful  they  are.  She  sweeps  away  their  possessions — 
touches  them  on  that  point  where  alone  they  are  sensitive.  I  re- 
joice in  the  howling,  whistling  tempest !  This  is  the  voice  of  the 
great  world-spirit,  dashing  by  in  the  thunder,  and  making  the  cow- 
ardly hearts  of  men  tremble.  They  deserve  this  pimishment ;  they 
are  utterly  unworthy  and  contemptible.  I  hate,  I  despise  them  all ! 
Only  when  I  see  them  suffer  can  I  be  reconciled  to  them.  Aha ! 
the  storm  has  seized  a  beautifully-dressed  lady.  How  it  wliirls  and 
dashes  her  about !  Look  how  it  lifts  her  robe,  making  rare  sport  of 
her  deceitful,  affected  modesty.  Miserable,  variegated  butterfly 
that  you  are,  you  think  yourself  a  goddess  of  youth  and  beauty. 
This  wild  tempest  teaches  you  that  you  are  but  a  poor,  pitiful  insect, 
to.ssed  about  in  the  world  like  any  other  creeping  thing — a  power- 
less atom.  The  storm  first  takes  possession  of  your  clothes,  now  of 
yi)ur  costly  hat.  Wait,  my  lady,  wait !  one  day  it  will  take  your 
heart ;  it  will  be  crushed  and  broken  to  pieces — there  will  be  none 
to  pity.    The  world  laughs  and  mocks  at  the  wretched.     Misfortune 


6^6       FREDERICK  THE  OREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

is  the  only  disgrace  which  is  never  forgiven.  You  may  be  a  thief, 
a  murderer,  and  you  will  be  pardoned  if  you  are  adroit  enough  to 
slip  your  head  from  the  noose.  Criminals  are  pitied  and  pardoned, 
unfortunates  never.  Ah,  this  is  a  mad,  gay  world,  and  they  are 
fools  who  take  it  earnestly ;  who  do  not  laugh — laugh  even  as 
I  do." 

The  princess  laughed  aloud — if  that  could  be  called  a  laugh,  from 
which  she  shuddered  back  herself  in  terror. 

"It  is  bitter  cold  here,"  she  said,  shuddering;  "I  think  I  shall 
never  be  warm  again.  I  am  always  freezing,  and  this  miserable 
frost  has  turned  my  heart  and  soul  to  ice.  I  would  like  to  know  if 
they  will  thaw  in  the  grave?" 

She  stepped  slowly  from  the  window,  and  crept  through  the 
large,  empty  room  to  the  chimney,  where  a  large  wood-fire  was 
burning — now  flickering  up  in  clear  flames,  now  breaking  into 
glowing  coals. 

Amelia  took  the  poker,  and  amused  herself  by  dashing  the  coals 
apart,  and  watching  the  flashing,  dancing  flames.  The  fire  seemed 
to  embrace  her  whole  figure,  and  threw  a  rosy  shimmer  over  her 
wan  and  fallen  cheeks.  She  gazed  deep  down  into  the  glowing 
coals,  and  murmured  broken,  disconnected  words.  From  time  to 
time  a  mocking  smile  ti'embled  on  her  lips,  then  heavy  sighs  wrung 
her  breast.  Was  she  perhaps  telling  the  fire  of  the  flames  which 
raged  within  her  bosom?  Was  she  perhaps  a  magician,  who  under- 
stood the  language  of  these  mysterious  tongues  of  flame,  and 
answered  their  burning  questions?  The  hasty  opening  of  the  door 
aroused  her  from  her  dreams,  and  a  page  entered  and  announced  in 
a  loud  voice — "  His  majesty  the  king !" 

Amelia  bowed  her  head,  and  advanced  slowly  and  with  a  stern 
countenance  to  meet  the  king,  who  now  apf>eared  at  the  threshold. 

"May  I  enter,  my  sister,  or  do  you  command  me  to  withdraw?" 
said  Frederick,  smiling. 

"The  king  has  no  permission  to  ask,"  said  Amelia,  earnestly; 
"he  is  everywhere  lord  and  master.  The  doors  of  all  other  prisons 
open  before  him,  and  so  also  do  mine. " 

Frederick  nodded  to  the  page  to  leave  the  room  and  close  the 
door,  then  advanced  eagerly  to  meet  his  sister.  Giving  her  his  hand, 
he  led  her  to  the  divan,  and  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  You  regard  me  then  as  a  kind  of  jailer, "  he  said,  in  a  gentle, 
loving  voice. 

"Can  a  king  be  any  thing  but  a  jailer?"  she  said,  roughly. 
"Those  who  displease  him,  he  arrests  and  casts  into  prison,  and  not 
one  of  his  subjects  can  be  sure  that  he  will  not  one  day  displease 
bim." 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  627 

"  You,  at  least,  my  sister,  have  not  this  to  fear,  and  yet  you  have 
just  called  this  your  prison. " 

"  It  is  a  prison,  sire. " 

"And  am  I,  then,  your  jailer?" 

"  No,  sire,  life  is  my  jailer. " 

"You  are  right,  there,  Amelia.  Life  is  the  universal  jailer, 
from  whom  death  alone  can  release  us.  The  world  is  a  great  prison, 
and  only  fools  think  themselves  free.  But  we  are  involuntarily 
commencing  an  earnest,  philosophical  conversation.  I  come  to  you 
to  rest,  to  refresh  myself  ;  to  converse  harmlessly  and  cheerfully,  as 
in  our  earlier  and  happier  days.  Tell  me  something,  dear  sister,  of 
your  life,  your  occupations,  and  your  friends?" 

"That  is  easily  done,  and  requires  but  few  words,"  said  Amelia, 
hoarsely.  "  Of  my  life  I  have  already  told  you  all  that  can  be  said. 
Life  is  my  jailer,  and  I  look  longingly  to  death,  who  alone  can  re- 
lease me.  As  to  my  well-being,  there  is  nothing  to  say  ;  all  is  evil, 
only  evil  continually.  My  occupations  are  monotonous,  I  am  ever 
asleep.  Night  and  day  I  sleep  and  dream  ;  and  why  should  I  awake? 
I  have  nothing  to  hope,  nothing  to  do.  I  am  a  superfluous  piece  of 
furniture  in  this  castle,  and  I  know  well  you  will  all  rejoice  when  I 
am  placed  in  the  vault.  I  am  an  old  maid,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  I 
am  a  wall-frog,  who  has  nothing  to  do  but  creep  into  my  hole,  and, 
when  I  have  vitality  enough,  to  spit  my  venom  upon  the  passers-by. 
As  to  my  friends,  I  have  nothing  to  relate ;  I  have  no  friends !  I 
hate  all  mankind,  and  I  am  hated  by  all.  I  am  especially  on  my 
guard  with  those  who  pretend  to  love  me ;  I  know  that  they  are 
deceitful  and  traitorous,  that  they  are  only  actuated  by  selfish 
motives. " 

"  Poor  sister, "  said  the  king,  sadly  ;  "  how  unhappy  must  you  be 
to  speak  thus  !    Can  I  do  nothing  to  alleviate  your  misfortune?" 

Amelia  laughed  loudly  and  scornfully.  "  Forgive  me,  your  maj- 
esty, but  your  question  reminds  me  of  a  merry  fairy  tale  I  have 
just  read  of  a  cannibal  who  is  in  the  act  of  devouring  a  young  girl. 
The  poor  child  pleaded  piteously  for  her  life,  naturally  in  vain.  '  I 
cannot,  of  course,  give  you  yovir  life, '  said  the  cannibal,  'but  I  will 
gladly  grant  you  any  other  wish  of  your  heart.  Think,  then,  quickly, 
of  what  you  most  desire,  and  be  assured  I  will  fulfil  your  request. ' 
The  pretty  maiden,  trembling  with  horror  and  despair,  could  not 
collect  her  thoughts.  Then,  after  a  short  pause,  the  cannibal  said, 
'I  cannot  wait;  I  am  hungry!  but  in  order  to  grant  you  a  little 
longer  time  to  determine  upon  the  favor  you  will  ask,  I  will  not,  as 
I  am  accustomed  to  do,  devour  the  head  first,  I  will  commence  with 
the  feet. '  So  saying,  he  cut  off  the  legs  and  ate  them,  and  on  cut- 
ting oflf  each  Umb  he  graciously  asked  the  poor  shuddering,  whimper 


528        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ing  being,  'Well,  -why  do  you  not  think?  Is  there,  then,  uo  faToi 
I  can  show  you?'  Confess  now,  sire,  that  this  was  a  most  magnani- 
mous cannibal. " 

Frederick  laughed  heartily,  and  appeared  not  to  understand  his 
sister's  double  meaning. 

"You  are  right, "  said  he  ;  "that  is  a  merry  fairy  tale,  and  brings 
the  tears  to  my  eyes — I  scarcely  know  whether  from  laughter  or 
weeping.     Where  did  you  read  it,  my  sister?" 

"The  fire-spirits  who  spring  vip  and  down  in  the  chimney  so 
lustily,  related  it  to  me.  Oh,  sire,  these  are  merry  sprites ;  and 
often  in  my  solitude,  when  I  am  sitting  in  my  arm-chair  in  the 
chimney- comer,  they  nod  to  me,  and  chat  freely  of  by-gone  times, 
and  the  days  which  are  to  come. " 

"  I  fear  they  have  not  much  that  is  cheerful  or  encouraging,  cer- 
tainly not  much  that  is  interesting  to  tell  you, "  said  Frederick. 

"  To  those  who,  like  us,  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  and  are 
going  rapidly  down-hill,  the  surroundings  become  ever  duller  and 
more  drear ;  for  us  there  are  no  more  great  and  agi-eeable  sur- 
prises ;  the  farther  they  advance,  the  more  lonely  and  desolate  it 
appears  ;  life  has  no  more  to  offer,  and  they  are  glad  at  last  to  reach 
the  valley  and  lie  down  in  quiet  graves.  But  while  we  live  and  are 
still  wanderers,  Amelia,  we  must  not  fold  our  hands  in  idleness  ;  we 
must  work  and  achieve.  You  also,  my  sister,  must  be  active  and 
energetic  ;  an  unusual  opiwrtunity  is  now  offered  j'ou.  The  Abbess 
of  Quedlinberg  is  dead,  and  you  can  now  enter  upon  her  duties." 

"And  your  majesty  thinks  it  is  really  a  worthy  vocation  for  me 
to  go  to  Quedlinberg  and  become  the  shepherdess  of  that  fearful 
flock  of  old  maids  who  took  refuge  in  a  nunnerj*  because  no  man 
desired  them  ?  No,  your  majesty,  do  not  send  me  to  Quedlinberg ; 
it  is  not  my  calling  to  build  up  the  worthy  nuns  into  saints  of  the 
Most  High.  I  am  too  unsanctifled  myself  to  be  an  example  to  them, 
and,  in  fact,  I  feel  no  inclination  to  purify  them  from  their  sins." 

"Well,  that  might  be  found  a  difficult  task,"  said  the  king, 
laughing,  "and  it  would  not  make  you  beloved.  Men  love  nothing 
so  much  as  their  vices,  and  they  hate  those  who  would  free  them 
from  their  cherished  yoke.  You  can,  however,  remain  in  Berlin 
and  still  accept  this  office,  once  so  worthily  filled  by  the  lovely 
Aurora  of  Konigsmark.  King  Augustus  gave  her,  at  least,  with 
this  refuge,  provided  by  his  love,  a  rich  widow's  income  ;  and  you 
can  now,  Amelia,  enjoy  the  fruit  of  that  love  which  at  one  time 
filled  all  Europe  with  admiration.  The  salary  of  the  abbess  amounts 
to  seventeen  thousand  thalers,  and  I  think  this  addition  to  your 
fortune  will  be  welcome.  Your  income  will  now  be  forty  thousand 
thalers." 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  529 

"Lodging  and  fuel  included,"  said  Amelia,  with  a  sarcastic 
laugh.  "  Look  j^ou,  sire,  I  see  that  1  have  nothing  to  complain  of. 
My  hospital  is  splendidly  endowed,  and  if  I  should  ever  become 
miserly,  I  may  be  able  to  lay  aside  a  few  thalers  yearly. " 

"  I  will  gladly  put  it  in  your  power  to  lay  aside  a  larger  sum,  if 
yoa  become  covetous, "  said  the  king  ;  "  and  I  beg  you,  therefore,  to 
allow  me  the  pleasure  of  raising  your  salary  as  princess,  six  thousand 
thalers."* 

Amelia  looked  at  him  distrustfully.  "You  are  very  gracious  to 
me  to-day,  my  brother.  You  grant  favors  before  I  ask  them.  I 
confess  to  you  this  alarms  and  agitates  me.  You  have  perhaps  some 
bad  news  to  disclose,  and  fearing  I  will  be  crushed  by  it,  you  desire, 
beforehand,  to  apply  a  balsam." 

The  king's  glance  was  tender  and  sympathetic.  "  Poor  Amelia ! 
you  will,  then,  never  believe  in  my  affection,"  said  he,  mildly. 
"  You  distrust  even  your  brother !  Oh,  Amelia !  life  has  hardened 
us  both.  We  entered  upon  the  stage  of  life  with  great  but  fleeting 
illusions.  How  gloriously  grand  and  beautiful  did  the  world 
appear  to  us ;  now  we  look  around  us  soberly,  almost  hopelessly ! 
What  remains  of  our  ideals?  Wliat  has  become  of  the  dreams  of 
our  youth?" 

"Tlie  storm- winds  have  shattered  and  scattered  them,"  cried 
Amelia,  laughing.  "The  evil  fiend  has  ploughed  over  the  fair  soil 
of  your  youth  and  turned  it  to  stone  and  ashes.  I  am  content  that 
this  is  so  I  would  rather  wander  amongst  ruins  and  dust  and  ashes 
than  to  walk  gayly  over  a  smooth  surface  with  whose  dark  caves 
and  pitfalls  I  was  unacquainted,  and  which  might  any  day  ingulf 
me.  When  both  foundation  and  superstructure  lie  in  ruins  at  your 
feet,  you  have  nothing  more  to  fear.  But  I  say  this  for  myself,  sire, 
not  for  you,  the  fame-crowned  king,  who  has  astonished  the  world 
by  his  victories,  and  now  fills  it  with  admiration  by  the  wisdom 
with  which  he  governs  his  subjects  and  advances  the  glory  of  his 
kingdom  I" 

"My  child,"  said  the  king,  mildly,  "fame  has  no  longer  any  at- 
traction for  me.  Nero  was  also  renowned  ;  he  burned  cities  and 
temples,  and  tortured  Seneca  to  death.  Erostratus  succeeded  in 
making  his  name  imperishable.  I  am  utterly  indifferent  as  to  the 
world's  admiration  of  my  wisdom  and  power  to  govern.  I  try  to 
do  my  duty  as  a  king.  But  I  tell  you,  child,  in  one  little  comer  of 
the  king's  heart  there  remains  ever  something  human  ;  and  the  poor 
creature  man  sometimes  cries  out  for  a  little  personal  comfort  and 
happiness.  One  may  be  very  rich  as  a  king,  but  poor — oh,  how  poor — 
as  a  man !  Let  us,  however,  dismiss  these  sad  thoughts.  I  was  spealj- 
♦  UlBtory  of  JJerijn  «ncl  Cowt. 


580        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

ing  to  you  of  money,  Amelia.  We  will  return  to  this  theme.  I 
cannot  prevent  your  heart  from  suffering,  but  I  can  secure  to  you 
every  outward  good.  Yotir  income,  until  now,  has  been  small ;  tell 
me  what  debts  you  have  contracted,  and  I  will  pay  them  !" 

"  Your  majesty  falls  into  my  room  like  a  shower  of  gold, "  cried 
Amelia  ;  "  you  will  find  no  Danas  here,  only  an  ugly  old  maid,  who 
is,  however,  ready  to  receive  the  glittering  treasure  ;  but  you  give  me 
credit  for  too  good  a  memory  when  you  think  I  know  the  amount  of 
my  debts.     I  only  know  the  sum  now  in  my  casket. " 

"And  what  is  the  amount,  Amelia?" 

"A  cipher,  sire;  your  majesty  knows  this  is  the  end  of  the 
month." 

"  I  know  it,  my  sister  ;  and  I  therefore  beg  you  to  accept  from  me 
to-day  a  small  sum  in  advance.  I  dreamt  last  night  that  you  had 
recently  been  called  upon  to  pay  out  four  thousand  louis  d'or.  This 
dream  was  significant ;  it  seemed  to  me  a  suggestion  to  give  you 
this  sum.  I  therefore  sent,  in  your  name,  an  order  on  my  treasurer 
for  four  thousand  louis  d'or." 

Amelia  looked  at  him  and  trembled  with  terror.  "  Do  you  know 
the  use  to  which  I  have  applied  this  sum?"  said  she,  breathlessly. 

"  My  dream  was  silent  on  this  point, "  said  Frederick,  rising  ;  "  it 
only  told  me  tha^  you  needed  this  amount,  nothing  more.  If  I  had 
been  curious,  I  might  have  asked  your  page,  who  has  an  acute  ear, 
and  for  whom  no  key-hole  is  too  small." 

"Ah,  he  has  betrayed  me,  then,"  murmured  Amelia. 

Frederick  did  not  appear  to  hear  her  ;  he  took  his  hat,  and  offered 
his  sister  his  hand.  Amelia  did  not  see  it ;  she  stood  as  if  turned 
to  stone  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  as  the  king  advanced  toward 
the  door,  she  stepped  slowly  and  mechanically  after  him. 

Suddenly  the  king  turned  and  looked  at  his  sister. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  a  piece  of  news, "  said  he, 
carelessly ;  "  something  which  will  perhaps  interest  you,  Amelia. 
Even  at  this  moment  a  prisoner  is  being  released  from  his  cell  and 
restored  to  life  and  liberty.  The  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  influenced 
by  her  fireman,  it  is  said,  has  appealed  to  me — " 

Princess  Amelia  uttered  a  heart-rending  shriek,  and  rushing  for- 
ward she  seized  the  arm  of  the  king  with  both  her  trembling  hands. 

"  Brother !  oh,  brother,  be  merciful !  do  not  make  cruel  sport  of 
me.  I  acknowledge  I  appealed  to  the  fireman  of  the  empress.  I 
offered  him  four  thoiisand  louis  d'or  if  he  would  intercede  for 
Trenck,  I  see  that  you  know  all ;  I  deny  nothing.  If  I  have  com- 
mitted a  crime  worthy  of  death,  condemn  me ;  but  do  not  inflict 
such  fearful  tortures  before  my  execution.  Do  not  mock  at  my 
great  grief,  but  be  pitifv«l.     IjQok  upon  me^  brptih^r ;  lopk  at  my 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  631 

withered  limbs,  my  deformed  visage ;  is  not  my  punishment  suffi- 
cient? torture  me  no  longer.  You  return  me  the  sum  of  money  I 
sent  to  Vienna :  does  that  mean  that  you  have  discovered  and  de- 
stroyed my  plot?  Is  this  so,  brother?  Have  you  the  heart  to  play 
this  cruel  jest  with  me?  Having  thus  made  my  last  attempt  fruit- 
less, do  you  tell  me  in  mockery  that  Trenck  is  free?"  She  held  the 
arm  of  the  king  firmly,  and  half  sinking  to  her  knees,  she  looked  up 
at  him  breathlessly. 

"  No,  Amelia, "  said  Frederick,  and  his  voice  trembled  with  emo- 
tion. "  No,  I  have  not  that  cmel  courage.  The  hand  of  your  clock 
points  now  to  twelve  ;  at  this  moment  Trenck  leaves  Magdeburg  in 
a  closed  carriage,  accompanied  by  two  soldiers.  To-mon-ow  he 
will  reach  Prague,  and  then  he  is  free  to  go  where  he  will,  only  not 
in  Prussia.     Trenck  is  free. " 

"  Trenck  is  free !"  repeated  Amelia,  with  a  shout  of  joy ;  she 
sprang  from  her  knees,  clasped  the  king  in  a  close  embrace,  and 
wept  upon  his  bosom  such  tears  as  she  had  not  shed  for  many  long 
years — tears  of  holy  happiness,  of  rapture  inexpressible ;  then  sud- 
denly releasing  him,  she  ran  rapidly  about  the  room,  in  the  midst 
of  bitter  weeping  breaking  out  into  loud  ringing  laughter,  a  laugh 
which  rung  so  fresh,  so  joyous,  it  seemed  an  echo  from  her  far-off 
happy  childhood.  "  Trenck  is  free  !  free  !"  repeated  she  again  ;  "  and, 
oh,  unspeakable  happiness !  I  obtained  him  his  liberty !  ah,  no, 
not  I,  but  a  poor  Savoyard  who  wished  a  dower  for  his  daughter.  Oh, 
ye  great  ones  of  the  earth,  speak  no  more  of  your  glory  and  power, 
a  poor  Savoyard  was  mightier  than  you  all  I  But  no,  no ;  what  have 
I  said?  you,  my  brother,  you  have  released  him.  To  you  Trenck 
owes  his  life  and  liberty.  I  thank  you  that  these  fearful  chains, 
which  held  my  soul  in  bondage,  have  fallen  apart.  Once  more  I 
breathe  freely,  without  the  appalling  consciousness  that  every  breath 
I  draw  finds  this  echo  in  a  cavern  of  the  earth.  You  have  released 
me  from  bondage,  oh,  my  brother,  and  henceforth  I  will  love  you 
with  all  the  strength  of  my  being.  Yes,  I  will  love  you, "  cried  she, 
eagerly  ;  "  I  will  cling  to  you  with  unchanging  constancy  ;  you  will 
ever  find  in  me  a  faithful  ally.  I  can  be  useful.  I  cannot  act,  but 
I  can  listen  and  watch.  I  will  be  your  spy.  I  will  tell  you  all  I 
see.  I  will  read  all  hearts  and  make  known  to  you  their  thoughts. 
Even  now  I  have  something  to  disclose  ;  do  not  trust  your  brothers. 
Above  all  others  put  no  faith  in  Prince  Henry  ;  he  hates  you  with  a 
perfect  hatred  for  the  sake  of  Augustus  William,  who,  he  says,  died 
of  your  contempt  and  cruelty.  Trust  him  in  nothing  ;  he  is  ambi- 
tious, he  envies  you  your  throne ;  he  hates  me  also,  and  calls  me 
always  '  La  fee  malfaisant.'  He  shall  be  justified  in  this!  I  will 
be  for  him  La  fee  malfaisant.     I  will  revenge  myself  for  this  hatred. 


532       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Without  my  help,  however,  he  will  soon  be  suflBciently  punished. 
His  beautiful  Wilhelmina  will  revenge  me. " 

She  broke  out  in  wild  and  convulsive  laughter,  and  repeated 
again  and  again  in  joyous  tones,  "Yes,  yes,  his  beautiful  Wilhel- 
mina will  punish  him  for  calling  me  an  old  witch. " 

The  king  shuddered  at  her  mad  laughter,  and  was  oppressed  by 
her  presence ;  her  mirth  was  sadder  than  her  tears.  He  bade  her  a 
silent  adieu,  and  hastened  away  as  if  flying  from  a  pestilence.  The 
princess  did  not  detain  him  ;  she  had  fallen  upon  a  chair,  and  star- 
ing immovably  before  her,  she  cried  out:  "Trenck  is  free!  Trenck 
is  free  !  Life  is  his  once  more  !  I  must,  I  will  live  till  I  have  seen 
him  once  more.  Then,  when  ray  poor  eyes  have  looked  upon  him 
yet  once  again,  then  I  will  die — die !"  * 

Suddenly  she  sprang  from  her  seat.  "I  must  know  Trenck 's 
future ;  I  must  draw  his  horoscope.  I  must  question  the  cards  as  to 
his  destiny,  and  knoAv  whether  happiness  or  misery  lies  before  him. 
Yes,  I  will  summon  my  fortune-teller.  There  is  a  destiny  which 
shapes  our  ends. " 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE     STOLEN     CHILD. 

It  was  a  dark,  stormy  December  night.  The  long- deserted  streets 
of  Berlin  were  covered  with  deep  snow.  By  the  glare  of  a  small  oil- 
lamp  affixed  to  a  post,  the  tall  form  of  a  man,  wrapped  in  a  large 
travelling-cloak,  could  be  seen  leaning  against  a  wall ;  he  was  gaz- 

*  This  wish  of  the  princess  was  fulfilled  after  the  death  of  Frederick  the  Great. 
Trenck  received  permission  from  his  successor,  Frederick  William  IL,  to  return  to 
BerUn.  He  was  graciously  received  at  court;  his  first  visit,  even  before  he  was  an- 
nounced to  the  king,  was  paid  to  the  Princess  AmeUa.  She  received  him  in  the  same 
room  in  which,  forty-seven  years  before,  they  had  passed  so  many  happy  hours. 
Upon  the  same  sp>ot  where,  beautiful  in  youth  and  grace,  they  had  once  sworn  eter- 
nal love  and  faith,  they  now  looked  upon  each  other  and  sought  in  vain,  in  these 
fallen  and  withered  features,  for  any  trace  of  those  charms,  which  had  once  enrap- 
tured them.  Trenck  remained  many  hours  with  her;  they  had  much  to  relate.  He  con- 
fessed freely  all  the  events  of  his  fantastic  and  adventurous  life.  She  listened  with 
a  gentle  smile,  and  forgave  him  for  all  his  wanderings  and  all  his  sins.  On  taking  leave 
he  promised  the  princess  to  bring  his  oldest  daughter  and  present  her,  and  Amelia 
promised  to  be  a  mother  to  her.  Death,  however,  prevented  the  fulfilment  of  these 
promises.  It  appeared  as  if  this  interview  had  exhausted  her  remaining  strength. 
In  1786,  a  few  daysafter  the  meeting  with  Trenck,  Amelia  died.  Trenck  lived  but  a 
few  years;  he  went  to  France  and  died  under  the  guillotine  in  1793.  As  he  sat  with 
his  companions  upon  the  car  on  their  way  toexecution,  he  said  to  the  gaping  crowd: 
"E!h  bien,  eh  bien,  dequoi  vous  imerveillez-vousf  feci  n^est  qu^une  comidie  a  la 
Robespierre."  These  were  Trenck's  last  words;  a  few  moments  afterward  his  head 
fell  under  the  grulllotine. 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  533 

ing  fixedly  at  the  houses  opposite  him.  The  snow  beat  uijon  his 
face,  his  limbs  were  stiff  from  the  cold  winter  wind,  his  teeth 
chattered,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  feel  it.  His  whole  soul,  his  whole 
being  was  filled  with  one  thought,  one  desire.  What  mattered  it 
to  him  if  he  suffered,  if  he  died?  As  a  dark  shadow  appeared  at 
the  opposite  door,  life  and  energy  once  more  came  back  to  the  stoic. 
He  crossed  the  street  hastily. 

"  Well,  doctor, "  said  he,  eagerly,  "  what  have  you  discovered  ?" 
"It  is  as  your  servant  informed  you,  my  lord.     Your  wife,  Lady 
Elliot,  is  not  at  home.     She  is  at  a  ball  at  Count  Verther's,  and  will 
n©t  return  till  after  midnight. " 

"But  my  child?  my  daughter?"  said  Lord  Elliot,  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

"  She,  of  course,  is  at  home,  my  lord.  She  is  in  the  chamber  ad- 
joining your  former  sleeping  apartment.  No  one  but  the  nurse  is 
with  her." 

"  It  is  well — I  thank  you,  doctor.  All  I  now  require  of  you  is  to 
send  my  valet,  whom  I  sent  to  your  house  after  me,  with  my  bag- 
gage.    Farewell !" 

He  was  rushing  away,  but  the  doctor  detained  him. 
"  My  lord, "  said  he,  in  a  low  and  imploring  voice,  "  consider  the 
matter  once  more  before  you  act.  Remember  that  you  will  thus 
inform  all  Berlin  of  your  unfortunate  wedded  life,  and  become  sub- 
ject to  the  jeers  and  laughter  of  the  so-called  nobility  ;  lowering  the 
tragedy  of  your  house  to  a  proverb. " 

"Be  itso, "  said  Lord  Elliot,  proudly,  "I  have  nothing  to  fear. 
The  whole  world  knows  that  my  honor  is  stained  ;  before  the  whole 
world  will  I  cleanse  it. " 

"But  in  doing  so,  my  lord,  you  disgrace  your  wife." 
"Do  you  not  think  she  justly  deserves  it?"  said  Lord   Elliot, 
harshly. 

"  But  you  should  have  pity  on  her  youth. " 

"  Doctor,  when  one  has  suffered  as  I  have,  every  feeling  is  extin- 
guished from  the  heart  but  hatred.  As  I  have  not  died  of  grief,  I 
shall  live  to  revenge  my  sufferings.  My  determination  is  unaltera- 
ble. I  must  and  will  tear  my  child  from  the  bad  influence  of  her 
mother,  then  I  will  punish  the  guilty. " 

"  Consider  once  more,  my  lord — wait  this  one  night.  You  have 
just  arrived  from  a  hasty,  disagreeable  journey ;  you  are  excited, 
your  blood  is  in  a  fever  heat,  and  now,  without  allowing  yourself  a 
moment's  rest,  you  wish  to  commence  your  sad  work." 

"  I  must  have  my  child.  You  know  that  as  it  is  a  girl  the  mother 
can  dispute  this  right  with  me,  for  by  the  laws  of  this  land  in  pas^ 
pjf  divorce,  the  daughter?  9.r§  left  to  their  motbeFi " 


634        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"  You  should  endeavor  to  obtain  her  by  kindness. " 

"And  suppose  that  Camilla,  not  out  of  love  to  the  child,  but  to 
wound  and  torture  me,  should  refuse  me  my  daughter,  what  then? 
Ah  !  you  are  silent,  doctor  ;  you  see  I  cannot  act  otherwise. " 

"I  fear,  my  lord,  you  will  have  some  trouble  in  getting  the  child. 
Lady  Elliot  has  lately  changed  all  the  servants  engaged  by  you,  not 
one  of  them  was  allowed  to  remain.  It  is  most  likely  that  none  of 
the  present  servants  know  you,  and  therefore  you  will  not  be 
obeyed. " 

"  My  plans  are  all  arranged,  they  shall  not  prevent  me  from  ful- 
filling them. " 

"But  if  they  refuse  to  let  you  enter?" 

"Ah,  but  I  shall  not  ask  them,  for  I  have  the  keys  necessary  to 
enter  my  own  house.  When  I  left  home,  Camilla  threw  them 
laughing  and  jesting  into  my  ti'unk — I  now  have  them  with  me. 
All  your  objections  are  confuted.  Again,  farewell.  If  you  wish  to 
give  me  another  token  of  your  friendship,  meet  me  at  the  depot  in 
an  hour.     I  will  be  there  with  my  child. " 

He  pressed  the  doctor's  hand  tightly,  and  then  hurried  into  the 
house.  Noiselessly  he  mounted  the  steps.  He  now  stood  in  front  of 
the  large  glass  door  leading  to  his  dwelling ;  he  leaned  for  a  mo- 
ment against  the  door  gasping  for  breath — for  a  moment  a  shudder- 
ing doubt  overcame  him  ;  he  seemed  to  see  the  lovely  countenance  of 
Camilla,  bedewed  with  tears,  imploring  his  mercy,  his  pity.  "No, 
no  !  no  pity,  no  mercy,"  he  murmured  ;  "onward,  onward  !" 

He  drew  forth  a  key,  opened  the  door  and  closed  it  noiselessly 
behind  him.  A  bright  lamp  burned  in  the  hall ;  sounds  of  laughing 
and  meiTy-making  could  be  heard  from  the  servants'  hall ;  the  cries 
of  a  child,  and  the  soft  lullaby  of  a  nurse  from  above.  No  one  saw 
or  heard  the  dark  form  of  their  returned  master  pass  slowly  through 
the  hall.  No  one  saw  him  enter  his  former  sleeping  apartments. 
He  was  so  conversant  with  the  room  that  he  found  his  way  in  the 
dark  without  difficulty  to  his  secretary.  Taking  from  it  a  candle 
and  some  matches,  he  soon  had  a  bright  light.  He  then  glanced 
sternly  around  the  room.  All  was  as  usual,  not  a  chair  had  been 
moved  since  he  left.  Beneath  the  secretary  were  the  scraps  of  let- 
ters and  papers  he  had  torn  up  the  day  of  his  journey.  Even  the 
book  he  had  been  reading  that  morning  lay  upon  the  table  in  front 
of  the  sofa ;  beside  it  stood  the  same  silver  candlesticks,  with  the 
same  half -burnt  candles.  It  had  all  been  imtouched ;  only  he,  the 
master  of  the  apartment,  had  been  touched  by  the  burning  hand  of 
misfortune — he  alone  was  changed,  transformed.  He  smiled  bitterly 
as  his  eye  glanced  at  every  object  that  formerly  contributed  to  his 
Jiappinees.    Then  taking  up  the  light,  he  approached  the  table  upon 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  533 

which  stood  the  two  silver  candlesticks ;  lighting  one  after  the 
other,  the  large,  deserted-looking  chamber  became  illuminated, 
bringing  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  heavy  satin  curtains,  the 
handsome  furniture,  the  tables  covered  with  costly  knick-knacks, 
the  large  Japan  vases,  and  a  huge  clock  upon  the  mantel-piece,  into 
view.  All  bore  a  gay  and  festive  appearance,  much  at  variance 
with  the  unfortunate  man's  feelings. 

His  glance  had  wandered  everywhere.  Not  once,  however,  had 
his  eye  strayed  to  two  large  pictures  hanging  on  the  left  side  of  the 
room.  The  one  was  of  himself — gay,  smiling  features,  a  bright 
glance  such  as  was  never  now  seen  upon  his  countenance.  The 
other  was  Camilla — Camilla  in  her  bridal  robes,  as  beautiful  and 
lovely  as  a  dream,  with  her  glorious,  child-like  smile  in  which  he 
had  so  long  believed — for  which,  seeing  in  it  the  reflection  of  her 
pure,  innocent  soul,  she  was  so  unspeakably  dear  to  him.  To  these 
two  pictures  he  had  completely  turned  his  back,  and  was  walking 
sadly  up  and  down  the  room.  He  now  raised  his  head  proudly,  and 
his  countenance,  which  but  a  moment  before  had  been  sad  and  de- 
jected, was  now  daring  and  energetic. 

"  It  is  time, "  murmured  he. 

With  a  firm  hand  he  grasped  a  bell  lying  upon  the  table.  Its 
loud,  resounding  ring  disturbed  the  deep  stillness  that  reigned 
throughout  the  apartments,  causing  Lord  Elliot's  heart  to  tremble 
with  woe.  But  there  was  no  noise — all  remained  quiet.  Lord 
Elliot  waited  awhile,  then  opening  the  door  passed  into  the  hall. 
Returning,  he  again  rang  the  bell  long  and  loudly.  "  They  cannot 
fail  to  hear  me  now, "  said  he. 

Several  doors  were  now  opened  by  some  of  the  servants,  but  their 
terror  was  such  that  they  retreated  in  haste,  slamming  the  dooi-s 
behind  them. 

Lord  Elliot  rang  again.  A  servant  now  hastened  forward ; 
another  soon  followed  ;  a  third  door  was  opened  from  which  sprang 
a  lively,  trim-looking  lady's  maid.  She  was  followed  by  the  house- 
girl.  Even  the  cook  rushed  up  the  steps.  All  hurried  forward  to 
a  room  which  was  generally  kept  locked,  but  which  now  stood 
wide  open.  All  gazed  at  the  man  standing  there  scanning  them 
with  an  earnest,  commanding  glance.  They  stood  thus  lost  in  won- 
der for  a  moment,  then  Lord  Elliot  approached  the  door. 

"Do  you  know  me — you,  there?"  said  he. 

"No,  we  do  not  know  you,"  said  the  waiter,  with  some  hesitation. 
"  We  do  not  know  you,  and  would  like  to  know  by  what  right — " 

"There  is  no  question  here  of  your  likes  or  dislikes,  but  of  the 
orders  you  will  receive  from  me.  Do  you  know  the  picture  next 
to  the  one  of  your  mistress?" 


536       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

'■  We  liave  been  told  that  it  is  our  master,  Lord  Elliot. " 

Lord  Elliot  advanced  nearer  the  picture,  and  stood  beneath  it. 
"  Do  you  know  me  now?"  said  he. 

The  servants  examined  him  critically  for  a  time,  then  whispered 
and  consulted  together. 

"Now  do  you  know  me?"  repeated  Lord  Elliot. 

"We  think  we  have  the  honor  of  seeing  his  excellency,  Lord 
Elliot,"  said  the  waiter. 

"Yes,  Lord  Elliot,"  repeated  the  lady's-maid,  the  house-girl,  and 
the  cook,  bowing  respectfully. 

He  ordered  them  to  enter  the  room.  Tremblingly  they  obeyed 
him. 

"Are  these  all  the  servants,  or  are  there  any  more  of  you?"  said 
he. 

"No  one  but  the  nurse,  who  is  with  the  little  lady,  and  the  coach- 
man who  is  in  the  stable. " 

"  That  is  right.     Come  neai-er,  all  of  you. " 

As  they  obeyed,  he  closed  and  locked  the  door,  dropping  the  key 
in  his  pocket.  The  servants  looked  at  him  in  wonder  and  terror, 
hardly  daring  to  breathe.  Though  they  had  never  seen  their  mas- 
ter, they  knew  by  his  stem,  expressive  countenance  that  something 
remarkable  was  about  to  transpire.  Like  all  other  servants,  they 
were  well  acquainted  with  the  secrets,  the  behavior  of  their  em- 
ployer. They  were,  therefore,  convinced  that  their  mistress  was  the 
cause  of  their  master's  strange  conduct. 

"  Do  not  dare  to  move  from  this  spot — do  not  make  a  sound, " 
said  Lord  Elliot,  taking  a  light  and  advancing  to  a  second  door. 
"Remain  here.  If  I  need  you  I  will  call."  Throwing  a  last  look  at 
the  servants.  Lord  Elliot  entered  the  adjoining  room,  drawing  the 
bolt  quickly  behind  him. 

"  All  is  right  now, "  said  he,  softly.  "  None  of  them  can  fly  to 
warn  Camilla  to  return. "  Candle  in  hand,  he  passed  through  the 
cliamber,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left.  He  wished  to  ignore 
that  he  was  now  in  Camilla's  room,  which  was  associated  with  so 
many  painfully  sweet  remembrances  to  him.  He  entered  another 
room — he  hurried  through  it.  As  he  passed  by  the  large  bedstead 
surrounded  by  heavy  silk  curtains,  the  candle  in  his  hand  shook,  and 
a  deep  groan  escaped  his  breast.  He  now  stood  at  tlie  door  of  the 
next  chamber.  He  stopped  for  a  moment  to  gain  breath  and  cour- 
age. With  a  hasty  movement  he  threw  open  the  door  and  entered. 
His  heart  failed  him  when  he  beheld  the  peaceful  scene  before  him. 
A  dark  shady  carpet  covered  the  floor,  simple  green  blinds  hung  at 
the  windows.  There  were  no  handsome  paintings  on  the  wall,  no 
glittering  chandelier,  no  bright  fiumiture,  and  still  the  apartment 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  631 

contained  a  Wondrous  tenement,  a  great  treasure.  For  In  the 
middle  of  the  room  stood  a  cradle,  in  the  cradle  lay  his  child,  hia 
first-bom — the  child  of  his  love,  of  his  lost  happiness.  He  knew 
by  the  great  joy  that  overcame  him,  by  the  loud  beating  of  his 
heart,  by  the  tears  that  welled  to  his  eyes,  that  this  was  his  child. 
He  prayed  God  to  bless  it— he  swore  to  love  it  faithfully  to  all  eter- 
nity. He  at  last  found  the  strength  to  approach  the  little  sleeping 
being  whose  presence  filled  him  with  such  wild  joy. 

The  nurse  sat  by  the  cradle  fast  asleep.  She  did  not  see  Lord 
Elliot  kneel  beside  the  cradle  and  look  tenderly  at  the  sleeping  face 
of  her  nursling — she  did  not  see  him  kiss  the  child,  then  lay  its 
little  hands  upon  his  own  bowed  head  as  if  he  needed  his  little 
daughter's  blessing  to  strengthen  him.  But  all  at  once  she  was 
shaken  by  a  strong  hand,  and  a  loud,  commanding  voice  ordered 
her  to  wake  up,  to  open  her  eyes.  She  sprang  from  her  chair  in 
terror — she  had  had  a  bad  dream.  But  there  still  stood  the  strange 
man,  saying  in  a  stem  voice,  "  Get  up  and  prepare  to  leave  here  at 
once  with  me. " 

She  wished  to  cry  for  help,  but  as  she  opened  her  mouth,  he 
threw  his  strong  arm  around  her.  "  If  you  make  a  sound,  I  take  the 
child  and  leave  you  here  alone.  I  have  the  right  to  command  here 
— I  am  the  father  of  this  child. " 

"Lord  Elliot !"  cried  the  nurse,  in  amazement. 

Lord  Elliot  smiled.  This  involuntary  recognition  of  his  right 
did  him  good  and  softened  him. 

"  Fear  nothing, "  said  he,  kindly,  "  no  harm  shall  happen  to  you. 
I  take  you  and  the  child.  If  you  love  and  are  kind  to  it,  you 
shall  receive  from  me  a  pension  for  life ;  from  to-day  your  wages 
are  doubled.  For  this  I  demand  nothing,  but  that  you  should  col- 
lect at  once  the  necessary  articles  of  clothing  of  this  child,  and  put 
them  together.  If  you  are  ready  in  fifteen  minutes,  I  will  give  you 
this  gold  piece. " 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  took  from  his  purse  a  gold  piece, 
which  lent  wings  to  the  stout  feet  of  the  nurse. 

"Is  all  you  need  in  here?"  said  he. 

Receiving  an  answer  in  the  aflSrmative,  he  took  his  light  and  left 
the  chamber.  Before  leaving,  however,  he  locked  another  door 
leading  into  the  hall,  so  as  to  prevent  the  possible  escape  of  the 
nurse. 

As  he  entered  Camilla's  boudoir  his  countenance  became  dark 
and  stem  ;  every  gentle  and  tender  feeling  that  his  child  had  aroused 
now  fled  from  his  heart.  He  was  now  the  insulted  husband,  the 
man  whose  honor  was  wounded  in  its  most  sensitive  point — who 
came  to  punish,  to  revenge,  to  seek  the  proofs  of  the  guilt  he  sus- 
35 


538       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

pected.  He  placed  the  light  upon  the  table,  and  opened  his  wife's 
portfolio  to  seek  for  the  key  of  her  drawer,  which  was  generally 
kept  there.  It  was  in  its  usual  place.  Lord  Elliot  shuddered  as  he 
touched  it ;  it  felt  like  burning  fire  in  his  hand. 

"  It  is  the  key  to  my  grave, "  murmred  he. 

"With  a  firm  hand  he  put  the  key  in  the  lock,  opened  the  drawer, 
and  drew  out  the  letters  and  papers  it  contained.  There  were  his 
own  letters,  the  letters  of  love  and  tenderness  he  had  sent  her  from 
Copenhagen  ;  among  them  he  found  others  full  of  passionate  proofs 
of  the  criminal  and  unholy  love  he  had  come  to  punish.  Camilla 
had  not  had  the  delicacy  to  separate  her  husband's  from  her  lover's 
letters ;  she  had  carelessly  thrown  them  in  the  same  drawer.  As 
Lord  Elliot  saw  this  he  laughed  aloud,  a  feeling  of  inexpressible 
contempt  overpowered  his  soul  and  deadened  his  pain.  He  could 
not  continue  to  love  one  who  had  not  only  been  faithless  to  him,  but 
wanting  in  delicacy  to  the  partner  of  her  sin. 

Lord  Elliot  read  but  one  of  the  beau  cousin's  letters,  then  threw 
it  carelessly  aside.  He  did  not  care  to  read  more  of  the  silly  speeches, 
the  guilty  protestations  of  constancy  of  her  insipid  lover.  He 
searched  but  for  one  letter  ;  he  wished  to  find  the  original  of  the  last 
one  Camilla  had  written  to  him,  for  he  knew  her  too  well  to  give 
her  credit  for  the  composition  of  that  cold,  sneering,  determined 
letter.  He  wished,  therefore,  to  find  the  author,  whose  every  word 
had  pierced  his  soul  like  a  dagger,  driving  him  at  first  almost  to 
madness. 

A  wild,  triumphant  cry  now  escaped  from  him,  resoimding  fear- 
fully in  the  solitary  chambers.  He  had  found  it !  The  letter  was 
clutched  tightly  in  his  trembling  hands  as  he  read  the  first  lines. 
It  was  in  the  same  hand  as  the  others,  it  was  the  writing  of  his  rival, 
Von  Kindar,  her  beau  cousin. 

Lord  Elliot  folded  the  paper  carefully  and  hid  it  in  his  bosom ; 
then  throwing  the  others  into  the  drawer,  he  locked  it,  placing  th« 
key  in  the  portfolio. 

"  It  is  well, "  said  he,  "  I  have  now  all  I  need.  This  letter  is  his 
death-warrant. " 

He  took  the  light  and  left  the  room.  Fifteen  minutes  had  just 
elapsed  when  he  entered  his  daughter's  chamber.  The  nurse  ad- 
vanced to  meet  him,  the  child  and  a  bundle  of  clothes  in  her  arms, 
and  received  the  promised  gold  piece. 

"  Now,  we  must  hasten, "  said  he,  stepping  into  the  hall. 

They  passed  silently  through  the  house,  down  the  steps,  and  into 
the  court-yard.  Lord  Elliot  walked  hastily  on,  followed  by  the  won- 
dering nurse.  He  stopped  at  the  stable  door,  calling  loudly  upon  the 
coachman  to  get  up  and  prepare  the  horses.     At  twelve  o'clock  the 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  539 

coachman  was  to  go  for  his  mistress ;  he  was  therefore  dressed,  and 
had  only  laid  down  for  a  short  nap. 

"  Put  the  horses  to  the  carriage, "  repeated  Lord  Elliot. 

The  coachman,  raising  his  lamp,  threw  a  full  glare  of  light  upon 
tlie  stranger. 

"  I  do  not  know  you, "  said  he,  roughly  ;  "  I  receive  ordei-s  from 
no  one  but  my  mistress. " 

For  answer.  Lord  Elliot  drew  from  his  breast  a  pocket  pistol. 

"  If  you  are  not  ready  in  five  minutes,  I  will  shoot  you  through 
the  head,"  said  Lord  Elliot,  quietly,  tapping  the  trigger. 

"For  God's  sake,  obey  him,  John,"  cried  the  nurse;  "it  is  his 
excellency  Lord  Elliot !" 

In  five  minutes  the  carriage  was  ready,  owing  much  more  to  the 
loaded  pistol  still  in  Lord  Elliot's  hand  than  to  the  conviction  that 
this  strange,  angr}'- looking  man  was  his  master. 

"  To  the  depot !"  cried  Lord  Elliot,  placing  the  child  and  nurse  in 
the  carriage,  then  jumping  in  after  them — "  to  the  depot  in  all  haste  1" 

They  reached  the  building  in  a  few  minutes.  There  stood  the 
horses  in  readiness,  and  beside  them  Lord  Elliot's  servant,  with  his 
baggage.  He  sprang  from  the  carriage,  and,  giving  the  coachman 
a  douceur,  ordered  him  to  loosen  the  horses  and  return  home  with 
them. 

"  But,  your  honor, "  stammered  the  mystified  coachman,  "  how 
am  I  to  call  for  my  lady  if  you  take  the  carriage?" 

"  My  lady  can  wait, "  said  Lord  Elliot,  jeeringly.  "  If  she  re- 
proaches you,  tell  her  that  Lord  Elliot  wishes  to  be  remembered  to 
her  ;  that  he  will  return  in  eight  days  with  her  carriage." 

"But  she  will  dismiss  me  from  her  .service,  my  lord." 

"Wait  patiently  for  eight  days,  and  then  you  shall  enter  mine. 
And  now,  away  with  you  !" 

The  coachman  dared  not  answer,  and  soon  disappeared  with  his 
horses. 

The  fresh  horses  were  put  to  the  carriage,  the  servant  swung  him- 
self up  to  his  seat ;  Lord  Elliot  stood  in  front  of  the  carriage  with 
his  friend  Dr.  Blitz. 

"All  has  happened  as  I  desired,"  said  he.  "I  take  my  child 
away  with  me,  and,  with  God's  will,  she  shall  never  know  but  that 
death  deprived  her  of  her  mother.  Poor  child  !  she  has  no  mother, 
but  I  will  love  her  with  all  the  strength  of  a  father,  all  the  tender- 
ness of  a  mother,  and  I  have  a  noble  sister  who  will  guard  and 
watch  over  her.  She  awaits  me  at  Kiel.  I  accompany  my  child  so 
far,  but  as  soon  as  she  is  in  the  faithful  hands  of  my  sister,  as  soon 
as  I  have  placed  them  upon  the  ship  sailing  for  Copenhagen,  I  return 
here. " 


540       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"Why  should  you  return,  my  lord?"  said  the  doctor,  in  terror. 
"  Is  it  not  sufficient  that  j'ou  have  deprived  the  mother  of  her  child? 
that  you  have  branded  the  woman  with  shame  before  the  whole 
world  ?    What  more  would  you  do,  my  lord  ?" 

With  a  strange  smile.  Lord  Elliot  laid  his  hand  upon  the  doctor's 
shoulder. 

"Flows  there  milk  instead  of  blood  in  your  veins,  man?  or  have 
you  forgotten  that  I  have  been  hit  by  a  poisoned  arrow  ?  I  must  be 
revenged,  if  I  would  not  die  of  thisivound." 

"Let  your  wounds  bleed,  my  lord — the  longer  they  bleed,  the 
sooner  they  will  heal.  But  why  destroy  the  arrow  that  wounded 
you?    Will  you  recover  the  sooner  or  suflFer  the  less?" 

"  Again  I  ask  you,  is  there  milk  instead  of  blood  in  your  veins? 
My  honor  is  stained — I  must  cleanse  it  with  the  blood  of  my  enemy." 

"A  duel,  then,  my  lord?  You  will  suffer  chance  to  decide  your 
most  lioly  and  sacred  interests — your  honor  and  life?  And  if  chance 
is  against  you?    If  you  fall,  instead  of  your  adversary?" 

"Then,  my  friend,  God  will  have  decided  it,  and  I  shall  thank 
Him  for  relieving  me  from  a  life  which  will  from  henceforth  be  a 
heavy  burden  to  me.  Farewell,  doctor.  I  will  be  with  you  in  eight 
days,  and  will  again  need  your  assistance." 

"It  is  then  irrevocable,  my  lord?" 

"Irrevocable,  doctor." 

"  I  shall  be  read}'.  God  grant  that  if  this  sad  drama  is  to  end  in 
blood,  it  may  not  be  yours !" 

They  pressed  each  other's  hands  tenderly.  Lord  Elliot  sprang 
into  the  carriage,  the  coachman  whipped  his  horses,  and  the  car- 
riage in  which  were  the  unfortunate  man  and  the  stolen  child  rolled 
merrily  along  the  deserted  streets . 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  DISCOVERY. 

Prince  Henry  stood  at  the  window  and  looked  down  into  the 
garden.  He  saw  his  wife  walking  in  the  park  with  her  ladies,  and 
enjoying  the  clear,  cool  winter  day  ;  he  heard  their  gay  and  merry 
laughter,  but  he  felt  no  wish  to  join  them  and  share  their  mirth. 

.Since  that  day  in  the  wood,  a  change  had  come  upon  the  prince 
— a  dark,  despairing,  melancholy  had  taken  possession  of  him,  but 
he  would  not  let  it  be  seen  ;  he  forced  himself  to  a  noisy  gayety, 
and  in  the  presence  of  his  wife  he  was  the  same  tender,  devoted, 
complaisant  lover  he  had  been  before ;  but  the  mask  imder  which  he 


THE  DISCOVERY.  641 

concealed  his  dislike  and  scorn  was  a  cruel  torture  and  -terrible 
agony ;  when  he  heard  her  laugh  he  felt  as  if  a  sharp  dagger  had 
wounded  him  ;  when  he  touched  her  hand,  he  could  with  difficulty 
suppress  a  cry  of  pain ;  but  he  conquered  himself,  and  kept  his  grief 
and  jealousy  down,  down  in  his  heart.  It  was  possible  he  was  mis- 
taken. It  was  possible  his  wife  was  innocent ;  that  his  friend  was 
true.  His  own  heart  wished  this  so  earnestly  ;  his  noble  and  great 
Goul  rebelled  at  the  thought  of  despising  those  whom  he  had  once 
loved  and  trusted  so  fully.  He  wished  to  believe  that  he  had  had  a 
hurtful  dream  ;  that  a  momentary  madness  had  darkened  his  brain  ; 
he  would  rather  distrust  all  his  reflections  than  to  believe  that  this 
woman,  whom  he  had  loved  with  all  the  strength  of  his  nature,  this 
man  whom  he  had  confided  in  so  entirely,  had  deceived  and  betrayed 
him.  It  was  too  horrible  to  doubt  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful, 
the  holiest  and  gentlest — to  be  so  confounded,  so  uncertain  in  his 
best  and  purest  feelings.  He  could  not  banish  doubt  from  his  heart ; 
like  a  death-worm,  it  was  gnawing  day  and  night,  destroying  his 
vitality — poisoning  every  hour  of  the  day,  and  even  in  his  dreams 
uttering  horrible  words  of  mockery.  Since  the  fete  in  the  wood  he 
had  been  observant,  he  had  watched  every  glance,  listened  to  every 
word  ;  but  he  had  discovered  nothing.  Both  appeared  unembarrassed 
and  innocent ;  perhaps  they  dissembled  ;  perhaps  they  had  seen  him 
as  he  lay  before  the  hut,  and  knew  that  he  had  been  since  that  day 
following  and  observing  them,  and  by  their  candor  and  simplicity 
they  would  disarm  his  suspicions  and  lull  his  distrust  to  sleep. 
This  thought  kept  him  ever  on  his  guard  ;  he  would,  he  must  know 
if  he  had  been  betrayed ;  he  must  have  absolute  certainty.  He 
stood  concealed  behind  the  curtains  of  his  window,  and  looked 
down  into  the  garden.  His  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  glowing,  con- 
suming expression  upon  the  princess,  who,  with  one  of  her  ladies, 
now  passed  before  his  window  and  looked  up,  but  she  could  not  see 
him  ;  he  was  completely  hidden  behind  the  heavy  silk  curtains. 

The  princess  passed  on,  convinced  that  if  her  husband  had  been 
in  his  room,  he  would  have  come  forward  to  greet  her. 

The  prince  wished  her  to  come  to  this  conclusion.  "Now," 
thought  he,  "  she  feels  secure ;  she  does  not  suspect  I  am  observing 
her,  at  last  I  may  find  an  opportunity  to  become  convinced. " 

Count  Kalkreuth  was  there ;  he  had  gone  down  into  the  garden. 
He  advanced  to  meet  the  princess,  they  greeted  each  other,  but  in 
their  simple,  accustomed  manner,  he,  the  count,  respectfully  and 
ceremoniously — the  princess  dignified,  careless,  and  condescending. 
And  now  they  walked  near  each  other,  chatting,  laughing,  charm- 
ingly vivacious,  and  excited  by  their  conversation. 

Tbe  prince  stood  behind  his  curtail)  wit^  a  loudly  beating  beml^ 


542       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

breathless  from  anxiety  ;  they  came  nearer  ;  she  led  the  way  to  the 
little  lake  whose  smooth  and  frozen  surface  shone  like  a  mirror. 
The  count  pointed  to  the  lake,  and  seemed  to  ask  a  question ;  the 
princess  nodded  affirmatively,  and  turning  to  her  ladies,  she  spoke 
a  few  words  ;  they  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"  They  are  going  to  skate, "  murmured  the  prince.  "  She  has  sent 
her  ladies  to  bring  her  skates ;  she  wishes  to  be  alone  with  the 
count. " 

Breathless,  almost  in  death-agony,  he  watched  them  ;  they  stood 
on  the  borders  of  the  lake,  and  talked  quietly.  The  expressions  of 
their  countenances  were  unchanged,  calm,  and  friendly  ;  they  were 
certainly  speaking  of  indifferent  things.  But  what  means  that? 
The  princess  dropped  her  handkerchief,  seemingly  by  accident. 
The  count  raised  it  and  handed  it  to  her  ;  she  took  it  and  thanked 
him  smilingly,  then  in  a  few  moments  she  put  her  hand,  with  a 
sudden  movement,  under  her  velvet  mantle.  Tlie  prince  cried  out ; 
he  had  seen  something  white  in  her  hand  which  she  concealed  in 
ber  bosom. 

"A  letter!  a  letter!"  crid  he,  in  a  heart-breaking  tone,  and  like 
a  madman  pursued  by  furies,  he  rushed  out. 

The  Princess  Wilhelmina  was  in  the  act  .of  having  her  skates 
fastened  on  by  her  maid,  when  Prince  Henry  advanced  with  hasty 
steps  from  the  alley  which  led  to  the  lake. 

Count  Kalkreuth  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  greeted  him  with 
gay,  jesting  words  ;  but  the  prince  had  no  word  of  reply  for  him  ;  he 
passed  him  silently,  with  a  contemptuous  glance,  and  stepped 
directly  in  front  of  the  princess,  who  looked  up  with  a  kindly  smile. 
He  said : 

"  Madame,  it  is  too  cold  and  rough  to  skate  to-day  ;  I  will  have 
the  honor  to  conduct  you  to  your  rooms. " 

Princess  Wilhelmina  laughed  heartily.  "It  is  a  fresh,  invigor- 
ating winter  day,  my  husband.  If  you  are  cold,  it  is  not  the  fault 
of  the  weather,  but  of  your  light  clothing.  I  pray  you  to  send  for 
your  furs,  and  then  we  will  run  a  race  over  the  ice  and  become 
warm. " 

Prince  Henry  did  not  answer.  He  seized  the  arm  of  the  princess 
and  placed  it  in  his  own.  "  Come,  madame,  I  will  conduct  you  to 
jour  apartment. " 

Wilhelmina  gazed  at  him  with  astonishment,  but  she  read  in  his 
excited  and  angry  countenance  that  she  must  not  dare  oppose  him. 
"  Permit  me,  at  least,  to  have  my  skates  removed, "  said  she,  shortly, 
giving  a  sign  to  her  maid.  The  prince  stood  near,  while  her  maid 
knelt  before  her  apd  removed  ijhe  sjsates.  Count  Kalkreuth  WH/B  ftt 
IH>m9  distaiipe; 


THE  DISCOVERY.  643 

Not  one  ■\«'ord  interrupted  the  portentous  silence.  Once  the 
prince  uttered  a  hasty  and  scornful  exclamation.  He*  had  inter- 
cepted a  glance  which  the  princess  exchanged  with  Count  Kalkreuth, 
and  a  glance  full  of  significance  and  meaning. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  prince?"  said  Wilhelmina. 

"  I  am  cold, "  said  he  roughly,  but  the  perspiration  was  standing 
in  large  drops  on  his  forehead. 

When  the  skates  were  taken  off,  the  prince  drew  his  wife  on  , 
quickly,  without  a  word  or  greeting  to  his  friend.  Kalkreuth  stood 
pale  and  immovable,  and  gazed  thoughtfully  upon  the  glittering  ice. 
*'  I  fear  he  knows  all, "  murmured  he.  "  Oh  my  God,  my  God  1  Why 
will  not  the  earth  open  and  swallow  me  up?  I  am  a  miserable, 
guilty  wretch,  and  in  his  presence  I  must  cast  my  eyes  with  shame 
to  the  ground.  I  have  deceived,  betrayed  him,  and  yet  I  love  him. 
Woe  is  me!"  He  clasped  his  hands  wildly  over  his  face,  as  if  he 
would  hide  from  daylight  and  the  glad  sun  the  blush  of  shame  which 
burned  upon  his  cheeks ;  then  slowly,  with  head  bowed  down,  he 
left  the  garden. 

The  prince,  during  this  time,  had  walked  rapidly  on  with  his 
wife  ;  no  word  was  exchanged  between  them.  Only  once,  when  he 
felt  her  arm  trembling,  he  turned  and  said  harshly  : 

"Why  do  you  ti'emble?" 

"  It  is  cold  !"  said  she,  monotonously. 

"  And  yet, "  said  he,  laughing  derisively,  "  it  is  such  lovely,  in- 
vigorating weather. " 

They  went  onward  silently  ;  they  entered  the  castle  and  ascended 
the  steps  to  the  apartment  of  the  princess.  Now  they  were  in  her 
cabinet — in  this  quiet,  confidential  family  room,  where  Prince 
Henry  had  passed  so  many  happy  hours  with  his  beloved  Wilhel- 
mina. Now  he  stood  before  her,  with  a  cold,  contemptuous  glance, 
panting  for  breath,  too  agitated  to  speak. 

Tlie  princess  was  pale  as  death  ;  unspeakable  anguish  was  writ- 
ten in  her  face.  She  dared  not  inteiTupt  this  fearful  silence,  and 
appeared  to  be  only  occupied  in  arranging  her  toilet ;  she  took  off 
her  hat  and  velvet  mantle. 

"Madame, "  said  the  prince  at  last,  gasping  at  every  word,  "I  am 
here  to  make  a  request  of  you  !" 

Wilhelmina  bowed  coldly  and  ceremoniously.  "You  have  only 
to  command,  my  husband !" 

"Well,  then,  "said  he,  no  longer  able  to  maintain  his  artificial 
composure,  "  I  command  you  to  show  me  the  letter  you  have  hidden 
in  your  bosom." 

"What  letter,  prince?"  stammered  she,  stepping  back  alarmed. 

"  The  letter  which  Count  Klalkreuth  gave  you  in  the  garden.     Do 


544       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  IttIS  FAMILY. 

not  utter  a  falsehood ;  do  not  dare  to  deny  it.     I  am  not  in  a  mood 
to  be  restrained  by  any  earthly  consideration. " 

As  he  stood  thus,  opposed  to  her,  with  flashing  eyes,  with  trem- 
bling lips,  and  his  arm  raised  threateningly,  Wilhelmina  felt  that  it 
would  be  dangerous,  indeed  impossible  to  make  any  opposition. 
She  knew  that  the  decisive  moment  had  arrived,  the  veil  must  be 
lifted,  and  that  deception  was  no  longer  possible. 

"The  letter !  give  me  the  letter  !"  cried  the  prince,  with  a  menac 
ing  voice. 

Wilhelmina  gazed  at  him  st«adily,  with  eyes  full  of  scorn  and 
hatred. 

"Here  it  is,"  taking  the  letter  calmly  from  her  bosom,  and  hand- 
ing it  to  the  prince. 

He  snatched  it  like  a  tiger  about  to  tear  his  prey  to  pieces  ;  but 
when  he  had  opened  it  and  held  it  before  him,  the  paper  trembled 
so  in  his  hands,  he  was  scarcely  able  to  read  it.  Once  he  murmured  : 
"Ah  !  he  dares  to  say  thou  to  you  ;  he  calls  you  his  'adored  Wilhel- 
mina!'" He  read  on,  groaning,  sometimes  crying  out  aloud,  then 
muttering  wild  imprecations. 

The  princess  stood  in  front  of  him,  pale  as  death,  trembling  in 
every  limb ;  her  teeth  were  chattering,  and  she  was  forced  to  lean 
against  her  chair  to  keep  from  falling. 

When  the  prince  had  finished  reading  the  letter,  he  crushed  it 
and  thrust  it  in  his  bosom,  then  fixed  his  eyes  upon  his  wife  with 
an  expression  of  such  intense,  unspeakable  misery,  that  the  princess 
felt  her  heart  moved  to  its  profoundest  depths. 

"  Oh,  my  husband, "  she  said,  "  curse  me  ! — murder  me  I — but  do  not 
look  upon  me  thus. "  She  then  sank  as  if  pressed  down  by  an  invisi- 
ble power,  to  her  knees,  and  raised  her  hands  to  him  imploringly. 

The  prince  laughed  coarsely,  and  stepped  back.  "  Rise,  madame, " 
said  he,  "  we  are  not  acting  a  comedy — it  is  only  your  husband  who 
is  speaking  with  you.  Rise,  madame,  and  give  me  the  key  to  your 
secretary.  You  will  understand  that  after  having  read  this  letter  I 
desire  to  see  the  others.  As  your  husband,  I  have  at  least  the  right 
to  know  hpw  much  confidence  you  have  placed  in  your  lover,  and 
how  far  you  return  his  passion. " 

"  You  despise  me, "  cried  Wilhelmina,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  I  think  I  am  justified  in  doing  so, "  said  he,  coldly.  "  Stand 
up,  and  give  me  the  key. " 

She  rose  and  staggered  to  the  table.     "  Here  is  the  key. " 

The  prince  opened  the  secretary.  "Where  are  the  letters, 
madame?" 

"  In  the  upper  drawer  to  the  left. " 

"  Ah, "  said  h^  with  a  rude  laugh,  "aot  evea  ia  a  secret  compart 


THE  DISCOVERY.  545 

ment  have  you  guarded  these  precious  letters.  You  were  so  sure  of 
my  blind  confidence  in  you  that  you  did  not  even  conceal  your 
jewels. " 

Princess  Wilhelmina  did  not  answer,  but  as  the  prince  read  one 
after  the  other  of  the  letters,  she  sank  again  upon  her  knees.  "  My 
God,  my  God!"  murmured  she,  "have  pity  upon  me!  Send  Thy 
lightning  and  crush  me.  Oh,  my  God !  why  will  not  the  earth 
cover  me  and  hide  me  from  his  glance  !" 

Rivers  of  tears  burst  from  her  eyes,  and  raising  her  arms  to 
heaven,  she  uttered  prayers  of  anguish  and  repentance. 

The  prince  read  on,  on,  in  these  unholy  lettters.  One©  he  ex- 
claimed aloud,  and  rushed  with  the  letter  to  the  princess. 

"Is  this  truel'"  said  he — "  is  this  which  you  have  written,  true?" 

"What?  Is  what  true?"  said  Wilhelmina,  rising  slowly  from 
her  knees. 

"  He  thanks  you  in  this  letter  for  having  written  to  him  that  you 
have  never  loved  any  man  but  himself — him — Kalkreuth  alone ! 
Did  you  write  the  truth  ?" 

"I  wrote  it,  and  it  is  the  truth,"  said  the  princess,  who  had  now 
fully  recovered  her  energy  and  her  composure.  "Yes,  sir,  I  have 
loved  no  one  but  Kalkreuth  alone.  I  could  not  force  my  heart  to 
love  you — you  who  in  the  beginning  disdained  me,  then  one  day  in 
an  idle  mood  were  pleased  to  love  me,  to  offer  me  your  favor.  I 
was  no  slave  to  be  set  aside  when  you  were  in  the  humor,  and  to 
count  myself  blessed  amongst  women  when  you  should  find  me 
worthy  of  your  high  regard.  I  v.-as  a-free  born  woman,  and  as  I 
could  not  give  my  hand  to  him  I  loved,  I  gave  my  heart — that  heart 
which  you  rejected.  You  have  the  right  to  kill  me,  but  not  to  de- 
spise me — to  dishonor  me. " 

"  Do  I  dishonor  you  when  I  speak  the  truth  ?"  cried  the  prince. 

"  You  do  not  sj)eak  the  truth.  I  have  sinned  heavily  against  you, 
I  suffered  your  love— I  could  not  return  it.  I  had  not  the  courage 
when  I  saw  you,  who  had  so  long  disdained  me,  lying  at  my  feet, 
declaring  your  passion  and  imploring  my  love  in  return,  to  confess 
to  you  that  I  could  never  love  you — that  my  heart  was  no  longer 
free.  This  is-  my  crime — this  alone.  I  could  not  force  my  heart  to 
love  you,  but  I  could  be  faithful  to  my  duty,  and  I  have  been  so.  It 
is  not  necessary  for  me  to  blush  and  cast  my  eyes  down  before  my 
husband.  My  love  is  pure — my  virtue  untarnished.  I  have  broken 
no  faith  with  you. " 

"Miserable  play  on  words  !"  said  the  prince.  "You  have  been  a 
hypocrite — your  crime  is  twofold :  you  have  sinned  against  me — 
you  have  sinned  again  sty  our  love.  You  have  been  a  base  coward 
wjiQ  had  not  the  courage  to  do  justice  to  the  feelings  of  vour  own 


546        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

heart.  What  mean  you  by  saying  you  have  broken  no  faith  with 
me?  You  have  acted  a  daily  lie.  Oh,  madame,  how  have  I  loved 
you  1  Both  body  and  soul  were  lost  in  that  wild  love.  "When  you 
stood  with  your  lover  and  listened  well  pleased  to  those  glowing 
confessions  of  his  sinful  love,  you  excused  yourself  and  thought, 
forsooth,  you  were  breaking  no'  faith.  You  have  defrauded  me  of 
the  woman  I  loved  and  the  friend  whom  I  trusted.  May  God  cuise 
you,  even  as  I  do !    May  Heaven  chastise  you,  even  as  I  shall !" 

He  raised  both  his  hands  over  her  as  if  he  would  call  down 
Heaven's  curse  upon  her  guilty  head,  then  turned  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  MORNING  AT  SANS-SOUCI. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Deep  silence  reigned,  the 
darkness  of  night  still  encompassed  the  world,  the  weary  might  still 
sleep  and  rest,  life  had  recommenced  nowhere,  nowhere  except  at 
Sans-Souci,  nowhere  except  in  the  apartment  of  the  king  ;  while  his 
people  slept,  the  king  watched,  he  watched  to  work  and  think  foi' 
his  people.  Without  the  wind  howled  and  blew  the  snow  against 
his  window,  and  made  even  the  fire  in  his  room  flicker ;  but  the 
king  heeded  it  not.  He  had  completed  his  toilet  and  drunk  his 
chocolate ;  now  he  was  working.  It  did  not  disturb  him  that  his 
room  was  cold,  that  the  candle  on  his  table  gave  but  a  poor  light, 
and  even  seemed  to  increase  the  appearance  of  discomfort  in  his 
apartment ;  it  gave  sufficient  light  to  enable  him  to  read  the  letters 
which  lay  upon  his  table,  and  which  had  arrived  the  previous  day. 
His  ministers  might  sleep — the  king  waked  and  worked.  He  read 
every  letter  and  petition,  and  wrote  a  few  words  of  answer  on  the 
margin  of  each.  After  reading  all  business  communications,  the 
king  took  his  own  letters,  those  that  were  addressed  to  him  person- 
ally, and  came  from  his  absent  friends.  His  countenance,  which 
before  was  grave  and  determined,  assumed  a  soft  and  gentle  ex- 
pression, and  a  smile  played  upon  his  lips.  The  receipts  for  to-day 
were  small.  There  were  but  few  letters,  and  the  large  proportion  of 
them  came  from  relations  of  the  king,  or  from  distant  acquaint- 
ances. 

"No  letter  from  D'Argens, "  said  the  king,  smiling.  "My  eccle- 
siastic letter  has  accomplished  the  desired  end,  and  the  good  mar- 
quis will  arrive  here  to-day  to  rail  at,  and  then  forgive  me.  Ah, 
here  is  a  letter  from  D'Alembert.  Well,  this  is  doubtless  an  agree- 
(ible  letter,  for  it  wiU  infornn  m©  t'h^t  D'Alembert  accepts  my  pro 


A  MORNING  AT  SANS-SOUCI.  647 

posal,  and  has  decided  to  become  the  president  of  my  Academy  of 
Science. " 

He  hastily  broke  the  seal,  and  while  he  read  a  dark  cloud  over- 
shadowed his  brow.  "  He  declines  my  offer, "  he  said,  discontent- 
edly. "  His  pride  consists  in  a  disregard  for  princes ;  hy  'vishes 
posterity  to  admire  him  for  his  unselfishness.  Oh,  he  does  not  yet 
know  posterity.  She  will  either  be  utterly  silent  on  this  subject  or, 
should  it  be  spoken  of,  it  will  be  considered  an  act  of  folly  which 
D' Alembert  committed.  He  is  a  proud  and  haughty  man,  as  they 
all  are. "  He  again  took  the  letter  and  read  it  once  more,  but  more 
slowly  and  more  carefully  than  before  ;  gradually  the  clouds  disap- 
peared from  his  brow,  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  pleasure. 

"  No, "  he  said ;  "  I  have  misjudged  D' Alembert.  My  displeasure 
at  a  disappointed  hope  blinded  me  ;  D' Alembert  is  not  a  small,  vain 
man,  but  a  free  and  great  spirit.  He  now  refuses  my  presidency, 
with  a  salary  of  six  thousand  thalers,  as  he  last  year  refused  the 
position  of  tutor  to  the  lieir  of  the  throne  of  Russia,  with  a  salary  of 
a  hundred  thousand  francs.  He  prefers  to  be  poor  and  needy,  and 
to  live  up  five  flights  of  stairs,  and  be  his  own  master,  than  to  live 
in  a  palace  as  the  servant  of  a  prince.  I  cannot  be  angry  with  him, 
for  he  has  thought  and  acted  as  a  wise  man  ;  and  were  I  not  Fred- 
erick, I  would  gladly  be  D'Alembert.  I  will  not  love  him  less 
because  he  has  refused  my  offer.  Ah,  it  is  a  real  pleasure  to  know 
that  there  are  still  men  who  are  independent  enough  to  exercise 
tJieir  will  and  judgment  in  opposition  to  the  king.  Princes  would 
be  more  noble,  if  those  with  whom  they  associated  were  not  so  mis- 
erable and  shallow -hearted.  D'Alembert  shall  be  a  lesson  and  a 
consolation  to  me  ;  there  are  still  men  who  are  not  deceivers  and 
flatterers,  fools  and  betrayers,  but  really  men. " 

He  carefully  refolded  the  letter,  and,  before  placing  it  in  his 
portfolio,  nodded  to  it  as  pleasantly  as  if  it  had  been  D'Alembert 
himself.     He  then  took  another  letter. 

"  I  do  not  recognize  this  writing, "  he  said,  as  he  examined  the 
address.  "  It  is  from  Switzerland,  and  is  directed  to  me  personally, 
Fiom  whom  is  it?" 

He  opened  the  letter,  and  glanced  first  at  the  signature. 

"Ah,  "he  said,  "from  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau!  I  promised  him 
an  asylum.  The  free  Switzers  persecuted  the  unhappy  philosopher, 
and  my  good  Lord  Marshal  prayed  my  assistance  for  him.  Lord 
Marshal  is  now  in  Scotland,  and  it  will  not  benefit  him  to  have  his 
friend  here.  Well,  perhaps  it  may  lead  to  his  return,  if  he  hopes  to 
find  Rousseau  here.     I  must  see  what  the  philosopher  says." 

The  letter  contained  only  a  few  lilies,  which  the  kiii|;  read  wi^ 
Vtter  ^toriisbrpegt, 


i, 


548        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

"■  Vraiment ! '"  he  exclaimed;  "philosophers  all  belong  to  the 
devil.  This  Jean  Jacques  does  not  content  himself  with  declining 
my  offer,  but  he  does  it  in  an  imheard-of  manner.  This  is  a  work 
of  art ;  I  must  read  it  again." 

The  king  read  aloud  in  a  most  pathetic  voice :  "  Voire  majeste 
m'offre  un  asyle,  et  m'y  prome  la  liberte  ;  mais  vous avez  une  epee, 
et  vous  etes  roi.  Vous  m'offrez  une  pension,  a  moi,  qu  n'a  rien 
fait  pour  vous.  Mais  en  avez-vous  donne  a  tous  les  braves  gens  qui 
ont  perdu  bras  et  jambes  en  vos  services?" 

"  Well, "  said  the  king,  laughing,  "  if  being  a  ruffian  makes  one  a 
philosopher,  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  deserves  to  be  called  the  greatest 
philosopher  in  the  world.  Truly,  Fortune  is  playing  curious  pranks 
with  me  to-day,  and  seems  determined  to  lower  my  royal  pride. 
Two  refusals  at  one  time  ;  two  philosophers  who  decline  my  invita- 
tion. No,  not  two  philosophers — D'Alembert  is  a  philosopher,  but 
Rousseau  is  in  truth  a  fool. " 

He  tore  this  letter,  and  threw  the  pieces  in  the  fire.  He  then 
seized  another  letter,  but  laid  it  down  again  before  opening  it.  He 
had  heard  the  great  clock  in  the  hall  strike  eight.  That  was  the 
sign  that  the  business  of  the  day,  which  he  shared  with  his  atten- 
dants, should  begin,  and  that  the  king  had  no  more  time  to  devote 
to  his  private  correspondence.  The  last  stroke  of  the  clock  had 
scarcely  sounded,  as  a  light  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  which 
was  instantly  opened  by  the  command  of  tlie  king. 

Baron  von  Kircheisen,  the  prefect  of  Berlin,  entered  the  room. 
He  came  to  make  his  weekly  report  to  the  king.  His  respectful 
greeting  was  returned  merely  by  a  dark  side-glance,  and  the  king 
listened  to  his  report  with  evident  displeasure. 

"And  that  is  your  entire  report?"  asked  his  majestj',  when  the 
prefect  had  finished.  "You  are  the  head  of  police  for  the  city  of 
Berlin,  and  you  have  nothing  more  to  tell  me  than  any  policemen 
might  know.  You  inform  me  of  the  number  of  arrivals  and  depart- 
ures, of  the  births  and  deaths,  and  of  the  thefts  which  have  been 
committed,  and  that  is  the  extent  of  your  report. " 

"  But  I  cannot  inform  your  majesty  of  things  that  have  not  oc- 
curred, "  returned  Baron  von  Kircheisen. 

"  So  nothing  else  has  occurred  in  Berlin.  Berlin  is  then  a  most 
quiet,  innocent  city,  where  at  the  worst  a  few  greatly-tobe-pitied 
individuals  occasionally  disturb  the  repose  of  the  righteous  by  mis- 
taking the  property  of  others  for  their  own.  You  know  nothing. 
You  do  not  know  that  Berlin  is  the  most  vicious  and  immoral  of 
cities.  You  can  tell  me  nothing  of  the  crimes  which  are  certainly 
not  of  a  kind  to  be  punished  by  the  law,  but  which  are  creeping 
frpm  house  to  house,  poisoning  the  happiness  of  entire  families,  and 


A  MORNING  AT  SANS  SOUCI.  549 

Bpreading  shame  and  misery  on  every  hand.  You  know  nothing  of 
the  many  broken  marriage-vows,  of  the  dissension  in  families,  of 
the  frivolity  of  the  young  people  who  have  given  themselves  up  to 
gambling  and  dissipation  of  all  kinds.  Much  misery  might  he 
avoided  if  you  knew  more  of  these  matters,  and  were  ready  with 
a  warning  at  the  right  moment." 

"Sire,  will  you  permit  me  to  say  that  is  not  the  task  of  the 
ordinary  police  ;  for  such  matters  a  secret  police  is  required." 

"Well,  why  do  you  not  have  a  secret  police?  Why  do  you  not 
follow  the  example  of  the  new  minister  of  police  at  Paris,  Pe 
Sartines?  That  man  knows  every  thing  that  happens  in  Paris.  He 
knows  the  history  of  every  house,  every  family,  and  every  indi- 
vidual. He  occasionally  warns  tlie  men  when  their  wives  are  on 
the  point  of  flying  from  them.  He  whispers  to  the  wives  the  names 
of  those  who  turn  their  husbands  from  them.  He  shows  the  parents 
the  faro-bank  at  which  their  sons  are  losing  their  property,  and 
sometimes  extends  a  hand  to  save  them  from  destruction.  That  is 
a  good  police,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  yours  does  not 
resemble  it." 

"  If  your  majesty  desires  it,  I  can  establish  such  a  police  in  Berlin 
as  De  Sartines  has  in  Paris.  But  your  majesty  must  do  two  things : 
First,  you  must  give  me  a  million  of  thalers  annually." 

"  Ah  !  a  million  I  Your  secret  police  is  rather  expensive.  Con' 
tinue.     What  do  you  desire  besides  the  million?" 

"Secondly,  the  permission  to  destroy  the  peace  of  families,  the 
happiness  of  your  subjects — to  make  the  son  a  spy  upon  his  father — 
the  mother  an  informer  against  her  daughter — the  students  and 
servants  the  betrayers  of  their  teachers  and  employers.  If  your 
majesty  will  permit  me  to  undermine  the  confidence  of  man  to  his 
fellow-man— of  the  brother  to  his  sister — of  the  parents  to  their  chil- 
dren— of  the  husbands  to  their  wives  by  buying  their  secrets  from 
them — if  I  may  reward  such  treachery,  then,  your  majesty,  we  can 
have  such  a  police  as  De  Sartines  has  in  Paris.  But  I  do  not  think 
that  it  will  promote  propriety  or  prevent  crime. " 

The  king  had  listened  to  him  with  increasing  interest,  liis  brow 
growing  clearer  and  clearer  as  the  bold  speaker  continued.  "When 
he  finished,  the  king  ceased  his  walk,  and  stood  motionless  before 
him,  looking  fully  into  his  excited  countenance. 

"It  is,  then,  your  positive  conviction  that  a  secret  police  brings 
w^ith  it  those  evils  you  have  depicted?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  it  is  my  positive  conviction. " 

"He  may  be  right,"  said  the  king,  thoughtfully.  "Nothing  de- 
moralizes men  so  much  as  spies  and  denunciations,  and  a  good 
government  should  punish  and  not  reward  the  miserable  spies  who 


650       FliEDERlCK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

betray  their  fellow- creatures  for  gold  with  the  wicked  intention  of 
bringing  them  into  misfortune.  A  good  government  should  not 
follow  the  Jesuits'  rule — 'That  the  end  consecrates  the  means. '" 

"  Will  your  majesty,  then,  graciously  allow  me  to  dispense  with 
a  secret  police?" 

"Well,  yes.  We  will  remain  as  we  are,  and  De  Sartines  may 
keep  his  secret  police.  It  would  not  suit  us,  and  Berlin  shall  not  be 
still  further  demoralized  by  spies  and  betrayers.  Therefore,  no 
more  of  the  secret  police.  When  crime  shows  itself  by  day  we  will 
punish  it.  We  will  leave  it  to  Providence  to  bring  it  to  light. 
Continue  to  report  to  me,  therefore,  who  has  died  and  who  has  been 
bora ;  who  have  arrived  and  who  have  departed ;  who  has  stolen 
and  who  has  done  a  good  business.  I  am  well  pleased  with  you 
— you  have  spoken  freely  and  bravely,  and  said  openly  what  you 
thought.  That  pleases  me  ;  I  am  pleased  when  my  agents  have  the 
courage  to  speak  the  truth,  and  dare  occasionally  to  oppose  me. 
I  hope  you  will  retain  this  virtue." 

He  bowed  pleasantly  to  the  prefect,  and  offered  him  his  hand. 
He  then  dismissed  him,  and  ordered  the  ministers  to  enter  with 
their  reports  and  proposals.  After  these  came  the  council,  and  only 
after  the  king  had  worked  with  them  uninterruptedly  for  three 
hours,  did  he  think  of  taking  some  repose  from  all  this  work,  which 
iiad  occupied  him  from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  nearly 
twelve.  He  was  on  the  point  of  entering  his  library  as  loud  voices 
in  the  anteroom  arrested  his  attention. 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  the  king  gives  no  audiences  to-day, "  he  heard 
one  of  the  servants  say. 

"The  king  has  said  that  eveiy  man  who  wishes  to  speak  to  him 
shall  be  admitted  1"  exclaimed  another  voice.  "  I  must  speak  to  the 
king,  and  he  must  hear  me. " 

"If  you  must  speak  to  him,  you  must  an-ange  it  by  writing. 
The  king  grants  an  audience  to  all  who  demand  it,  but  he  Axes  the 
hour  himself. " 

"Misery  and  despair  cannot  await  a  fixed  houi- !"  cried  the  other. 
"  If  the  Ipng  will  not  listen  to  unhappiness  when  it  calls  to  him 
for  redress,  but  waits  until  it  pleases  him  to  hear,  he  is  not  a  good 
king." 

"Tlie  man  is  right,"  said  the  king,  "I  will  listen  to  him  imme- 
diately." 

He  hastily  advanced  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  Without  stood 
an  old  man,  poorly  dressed,  with  a  pale,  thin  face,  from  wliose 
features  despair  and  sorrow  spoke  plainly  enough  to  be  understood 
by  all.  When  his  great,  sunken  eyes  fell  upon  the  king,  he  cried, 
joyfully,  "  God  be  thanked,  there  is  the  king  1" 


A  MORNING  AT  SANSSOUCI.  551 

The  king  motioned  to  him  to  approach,  and  the  old  man  sprang 
forvi^ard  with  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  Come  into  the  room, "  said  the  king ;  "  and  now  tell  me  what 
yo'j  wish  from  me?" 

"  Justice,  your  majesty,  nothing  but  justice.  I  have  been  through 
the  war,  and  I  am  without  bread.  I  have  nothing  to  live  upon,  and 
I  have  twice  petitioned  your  majesty  for  a  situation  which  is  now 
vacant. " 

"And  I  refused  it  to  you,  because  I  had  promised  it  to  an- 
other." 

"  They  told  me  that  your  majesty  would  refuse  me  this  situation, " 
cried  the  man,  despairingly.  "But  I  cannot  believe  it,  for  your 
majesty  owes  it  to  me,  and  you  are  usually  a  just  king.  Hasten, 
your  majesty,  to  perform  your  duty,  and  justify  yourself  from  a 
suspicion  which  is  unworthy  of  youi  kingly  fame. " 

The  king  measured  him  with  a  flashing  glance,  which  the  pale, 
decpairing  suppliant  bore  with  bold  composure. 

"  By  what  authority, "  asked  the  king,  in  a  thundering  voice,  as 
he  approached  the  man,  with  his  arm  raised  threateningly — "by 
what  authority  do  you  dare  speak  to  me  in  such  a  tone?  and  on  what 
do  you  ground  your  shameless  demands?" 

"  On  this,  your  majesty,  that  I  must  starve  if  you  refuse  my  re- 
quest. That  is  the  most  sac/ed  of  all  claims,  and^to  whom  on  earth 
dare  I  turn  with  it  if  not  to  my  king?" 

Tliere  lay  in  these  words  a  sorrow  so  heart-breaking,  a  plaint  so 
despairing  in  the  voice,  that  the  king  was  involuntarily  much 
moved.  He  let  fall  liis  uplifted  arm,  and  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  became  gentle  and  tender. 

"I  see  that  you  are  very  unhappy  and  despairing,"  he  said, 
kindly;  "you  were  right  to  come  to  me.  You  shall  have  the  place 
for  which  you  asked.  I  will  arrange  it.  Come  here  to-morrow  to 
tlie  Councillor  Muller.  I  will  give  you  some  money,  that  you  may 
not  starve  until  then. " 

He  silenced  the  delighted  man's  expressions  of  gratitude,  and 
ringing  his  bell  he  summoned  Deesen,  who  kept  his  jiurse,  in  order 
to  give  the  man  a  gold  piece.  But  Deesen  did  not  appear,  and  the 
second  chamberlain  announced  in  an  embarrassed  manner  that  lie 
v>-as  not  in  the  palace.  The  king  commanded  him  to  give  the  man 
the  promised  gold  piece  and  then  to  return  to  him. 

"Where  is  Deesen?"  asked  the  king,  as  the  chamberlain  returned. 

"Sire,  I  do  not  know,"  he  stammered,  his  eyes  sinking  beneath 
the  piercing  glance  of  the  king. 

"You  do  know!"  said  the  king,  gravely.  "Deesen  has  positive 
er(}er?  f J"9Ri  ?ne  to  yemaiii  jp  |h^  §rxfceropm,  because  I  might  g(?e(J 


652       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

him.  If  he  dares  to  disobey  my  orders,  he  must  have  a  powerful 
reason,  and  you  know  it.     Out  with  it !    I  will  know  it. " 

"  If  your  majesty  commands,  I  must  speak, "  said  the  chamber- 
lain, sighing.  "Your  majesty  will  not  permit  us  to  be  married, 
but  we  were  made  with  hearts,  and  we  sometimes  fall  in  love. " 

"Deesen  is  in  love,  then?"  said  the  king. 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  he  loves  a  beautiful  girl  in  Potsdam,  whose 
name  is  Maria  Siegert.  And  although  he  cannot  marry  her,  she  has 
consented  to  be  his  beloved.  And  as  to-day  was  the  great  report  day, 
Deesen  thought  that  your  majesty  would  not  need  him,  and  that 
he  had  time  to  go  to  Potsdam  to  visit  his  sweetheart.  He  seems  to 
have  been  delayed.  That  is  the  reason,  your  majesty,  that  Deesen 
is  not  in  the  anteroom. " 

"Very  well, "  said  the  king  ;  "as  soon  as  Deesen  returns  he  must 
come  to  my  library.  I  forbid  you,  however,  to  repeat  one  word  of 
this  conversation. " 

"  Ah,  your  majesty,  I  am  well  pleased  that  I  need  not  do  it,  for 
Deesen  is  very  passionate,  and  if  he  learns  that  I  have  betrayed  hig 
secret  he  is  capable  of  giving  me  a  box  on  the  ear. "  < 

"Which  would,  perhaps,  be  very  wholesome  for  you,"  said  the 
king,  as  he  turned  toward  his  library. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Deesen  entered  the  library  with  a 
heated,  anxious  face. 

The  king,  who  was  reading  his  beloved  Lucretius  while  he  paced 
the  floor,  turned  his  great,  piercing  eyes  with  a  questioning  ex- 
pression on  the  anxious  face  of  his  attendant.  "I  called  for  you, 
and  you  did  not  come, "  said  the  king. 

"  I  beg  your  majesty  to  pardon  me, "  stammered  Deesen. 

"  Where  were  you?" 

"  I  was  in  my  room  writing  a  letter,  sire. " 

"All,  a  letter.  You  were  no  doubt  writing  to  that  beautiful  bar- 
maid at  the  hotel  of  the  Black  Raven  at  Amsterdam,  who  declined 
the  attentions  of  the  servant  of  the  brothers  Zoller. " 

This  reference  to  the  journey  to  Amsterdam  showed  Deesen  that 
the  king  was  not  very  angry.  He  dared,  therefore,  to  raise  his  eyes 
to  those  of  the  king,  and  to  look  pleadingly  at  him. 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  king,  pointing  to  the  writing-table.  "I 
called  you  because  I  wished  to  dictate  a  letter  for  you  to  write.  Sit 
down  and  take  a  j)en. " 

Deesen  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and  the  king  began  walking 
up  and  down  as  before,  his  hands  and  book  behind  him. 

"Are  you  ready?"  asked  the  king. 

"  I  am  ready,  sire, "  returned  Deesen,  dipping  his  pen  into  th? 
iJik, 


A  ifORNlNQ  AT  SANS  SOtTOl.  553 

"Write  then,"  commanded  the  king,  aa  he  placed  himself  imme 
diately  in  front  of  Deesen — "write,  then,  first  the  heading:  'My 
beloved — '" 

Deesen  started,  and  glanced  inquiringly  at  the  king.  Frederick 
looked  earnestly  at  him,  and  repeated,  'My  beloved — '" 

Deesen  uttered  a  sigh,  and  wrote. 

"Have  you  written  that?"  asked  the  king. 

"Yes,  sire,  I  have  it — 'My  beloved.'" 

"Well,  then,  proceed.  'My  beloved,  that  old  bear,  the  king — * 
Write,"  said  the  king,  interrupting  himself  as  he  saw  that  Deesen 
grew  pale  and  trembled,  and  could  scarcely  hold  the  pen — "  write 
without  hesitation,  or  expect  a  severe  punishment." 

"Will  your  majesty  have  the  kindness  to  dictate?  I  am  ready  to 
write  every  thing, "  said  Deesen,  as  he  wiped  his  brow. 

"Now  then,  quickly,"  ordered  the  king,  and  he  dictated — 'That 
old  bear,  the  king,  counts  every  hour  against  me  that  I  spend  so 
charmingly  with  you.  That  my  absence  may  be  shorter  in  the 
future,  and  less  observed  by  the  old  scold,  I  wish  you  to  rent  a  room 
near  here  in  the  suburbs  of  Brandenburg,  where  we  can  meet  more 
conveniently  than  in  the  city.     I  remain  yours  until  death. 

" '  Deesen.  ' 

"Have  you  finished?"  asked  the  king. 

"Yes,  sire,  I  have  finished,"  groaned  Deesen. 

"Then  fold  the  letter  and  seal  it,  and  write  the  address  'To  tlie 
unmarried  Maria  Siegert,  Yunker  Street,  Potsdam.'" 

"  Mercy,  sire,  mercy  !"  cried  Deseen,  springing  up  and  throwing 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  king.  "  I  see  that  your  majesty  knows  all 
— that  1  have  been  betrayed. " 

"  You  have  betrayed  yourself,  for  to-day  is  the  tenth  time  that  I 
have  called  for  you  when  you  were  absent.  Now  send  your  letter 
off,  and  see  that  your  Siegert  gets  a  room  here.  If,  however,  you 
are  again  absent  when  I  call,  I  will  send  your  beautiful  Maria  to 
Spandau,  and  dismiss  you.     Go,  now,  and  dispatch  your  letter. " 

Deesen  hurried  off,  and  the  king  looked  smilingly  after  him  for 
a  moment,  and  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to  his  reading,  when 
his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  approach  of  a  carriage. 

"Ah,"  he  murmured  anxiously,  "I  fear  that  I  shall  be  disturbed 
again  by  some  cousin,  who  has  come  to  rob  me  of  my  time  by  hypo- 
critical professions  of  love." 

He  looked  anxiously  toward  the  door.  It  was  soon  opened,  and 
a  servant  announced  Prince  Henry. 

Tlie  king's  countenance  cleared,  and  he  advanced  to  meet  his 
brother  with  a  bright  smile.     But  his  greeting  was  not  returned, 
and  the  prince  did  not  appear  to  see  the  extended  hand  of  the  king. 
36 


564       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

A  heavy  cloud  lay  upon  his  brow — hia  cheeks  were  colorless  and  his 
lips  compressed,  as  if  he  wished  to  suppress  the  angry  and  indig- 
nant words  which  his  flashing  ,.yes  expressed. 

"Ah,  my  brother,"  said  the  king,  sadly,  "it  seems  that  you  have 
come  to  announce  a  misfortune. " 

"  No, "  said  the  prince,  "  I  only  came,  your  majesty,  to  recall  a 
conversation  which  I  held  with  you  ten  years  ago  in  this  same  room, 
on  this  very  spot. " 

"  Ten  years  ago?"  said  the  king.  "  That  was  at  the  time  of  your 
marriage,  Henry." 

"  Yes,  the  conversation  I  refer  to  concerned  my  marriage,  sire. 
You  had  pursued  me  so  long  with  that  subject,  that  I  had  at  length 
concluded  to  submit  to  the  yoke  which  was  to  free  me  from  those 
unworthy  and  humiliating  persecutions. " 

"I  think  that  you  could  select  more  fitting  expressions,  my 
brother, "  said  the  king,  with  flashing  eyes.  "  You  forget  that  you 
are  speaking  to  your  king. " 

"  But  I  remember  that  I  am  speaking  to  my  brother,  whose  duty 
is  to  hear  the  complaints  which  I  have  to  utter  against  the  king. " 

"Speak,"  said  the  king,  after  a  slight  pause.  "Your  brother 
will  hear  you. " 

"I  come  to  remind  you  of  that  hour,"  said  the  prince,  solemnly, 
"in  which  I  gave  my  consent  to  be  married.  As  I  did  so,  sire,  I 
said  to  you  that  I  should  hold  you  responsible  for  this  marriage 
which  was  made  for  political  purposes  and  not  from  love — that  I 
would  call  you  to  account  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  there  ask 
you  by  what  right  you  robbed  me  of  my  liberty,  by  what  right  you 
laid  a  chain  upon  my  hand  and  heart  which  love  could  not  help  me 
to  bear.  I  said  further,  sire — if  the  weight  of  this  chain  should  be- 
come too  heavy,  and  this  unnatural  connection  of  a  marriage  with 
out  love  should  drive  me  to  despair,  that  upon  your  head  would  rest 
the  curse  of  my  misery,  and  that  you  would  be  answerable  for  my 
destroyed  existence,  for  my  perished  hopes. " 

"  And  I, "  said  the  king,  "  I  took  this  responsibility  upon  me.  As 
your  king  and  your  elder  brother,  I  reminded  you  of  your  duty  to 
give  the  state  a  family — sons  who  would  be  an  example  of  courage 
and  honor  to  the  men,  and  daughters  who  would  be  a  pattern  of 
virtue  and  propriety  to  the  women.  In  view  of  these  duties,  I  de- 
manded of  you  to  be  married. " 

"  I  come  now  to  call  you  to  account  for  this  marriage, "  exclaimed 
the  prince,  solemnly.  "  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  my  heart  is 
torn  with  pain  and  misery  ;  that  I  am  the  most  wretched  of  men, 
and  that  you  have  made  me  so — ^you,  who  forced  me  into  this  mar- 
riage, although  you  knew  the  shame  and  despair  of  a  marriage 


A  MORNING  AT  SaNS-SOUCI.  555 

without  love.  You  had  already  taken  a  heavy  responsibility  upon 
yourself  by  your  own  marriage  ;  and  if  you  were  compelled  to  endure 
it  so  long  as  my  father  lived,  you  should  have  relieved  yourself 
from  it  so  soon  as  you  were  free  ;  that  is,  so  soon  as  you  were  king. 
But  you  preferred  to  continue  in  this  unnatural  connection,  or  rather 
you  put  the  chains  from  your  hands,  and  let  them  drag  at  your  feet. 
Not  to  outrage  the  world  by  your  divorce,  you  gave  it  the  bad  ex- 
ample of  a  wretched  marriage.  You  made  yourself  free,  and  you 
made  a  slave  of  your  poor  wife,  who  has  been  a  martyr  to  your 
humors  and  cruelty.  You  profaned  the  institution  of  man-iage. 
You  gave  a  bad  and  dangerous  example  to  your  subjects,  and  it  has 
done  its  work.  Look  around  in  your  land,  sire.  Everywhere  you 
will  see  unliappy  women  who  have  been  deserted  by  their  husbands, 
and  miserable  men  who  have  been  dishonored  by  tiieir  faithless 
wives.  Look  at  your  own  family.  Our  sister*  of  Baireuth  died  of 
grief,  and  of  the  humiliation  she  endured  from  the  mistress  of  her 
husband.  Our  brother,  Augustus  William,  died  solitary  and  alone. 
He  withdrew  in  his  gi-ief  to  Oranienburg,  and  his  wife  remained  in 
Berlin.  She  was  not  with  him  when  he  died ;  strangers  received 
his  last  breath — strangers  closed  his  eyes.  Our  sister  of  Auspach 
quarrelled  with  her  husband,  until  finally  she  submitted,  and  made 
a  friend  of  his  mistress.  And  I,  sire,  I  also  stand  before  you  with 
the  brand  of  shame  upon  my  brow.  I  also  have  been  betrayed  and 
deceived,  and  all  this  is  your  work.  If  the  king  mocks  at  the  sacred 
duties  of  maiTiage,  how  can  he  expect  that  his  familj'  and  subjects 
should  respect  them '?  It  is  the  fashion  in  your  land  for  husbands 
and  wives  to  deceive  one  another,  and  it  is  you  who  have  set  this 
fashion. " 

"  I  have  allowed  you  to  finish,  Henry, "  said  the  king,  when  the 
prince  was  at  length  silent.  "  I  have  allowed  you  to  finish,  but  I 
have  not  heard  your  angry  and  unjust  reproaches,  I  have  only  heard 
that  my  brother  is  unhappy,  and  it  is,  I  know,  natural  for  the  un- 
happy to  seek  the  source  of  their  sorrows  in  others  and  not  in  them- 
selves. I  forgive  all  that  you  have  said  against  me  ;  but  if  you  hold 
me  responsible  for  the  miserable  consequences  of  the  war,  which 
kept  the  men  at  a  distance  for  years  and  loosened  family  ties,  that 
shows  plainly  that  your  judgment  is  unreliable,  and  that  you  can- 
not discriminate  with  justice.  I  did  not  commence  this  war  heed- 
lessly ;  I  undertook  it  as  a  heavy  burden.  It  has  made  an  old  man 
of  me  ;  it  has  eaten  up  my  life  before  my  time.  I  see  all  the  evil 
results,  and  I  consider  it  my  sacred  duty  to  bind  up  the  wounds 
which  it  has  inflicted  on  my  country.  I  work  for  this  object  day 
and  night ;  I  give  all  of  my  energies  to  this  effort ;  I  have  sacrificed 
to  it  all  my  personal  iucliuatious.     But  I  must  be  contented  to  bind 


556       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

up  tlie  wounds.  I  cannot  make  want  disappear  ;  I  cannot  immedi- 
ately change  sorrow  into  gladness. " 

"Ah,  sire,  you  seek  to  avoid  the  subject,  and  to  speak  of  the 
general  uuhappiness  instead  of  my  special  grief.  I  call  you  to 
accoimt,  because  you  forced  me  to  take  a  wife  that  I  did  not  know 
— a  wife  who  has  made  me  the  most  miserable  of  men — a  wife  who 
has  outraged  my  honor,  and  betrayed  my  heart.  You  gave  me  a 
wife  who  has  robbed  me  of  all  I  held  dear  on  earth — of  the  wife  I 
loved,  and  of  the  friend  I  trusted. " 

"Poor  brother,"  said  the  king,  gently,  "you are  enduring  the  tor- 
ments from  which  I  also  suffered,  before  my  heart  became  hardened 
as  it  now  is.  Yes,  it  is  a  feai"ful  pain  to  be  forced  to  despise  the 
friend  that  you  trusted — to  be  betrayed  by  those  we  have  loved.  I 
have  passed  through  that  grief.  The  man  suffered  deeply  in  me  be- 
foi'e  his  existence  was  merged  in  that  of  the  king. " 

"  Sire, "  said  the  prince,  suddenly,  "  I  have  come  to  you  to  de- 
mand justice  and  punishment.  You  have  occasioned  the  misery  of 
my  house,  it  is  therefore  your  duty  to  alleviate  it,  as  far  as  in  you 
lies.  I  accuse  my  wife,  the  Princess  Wilhelmina,  of  infidelity  and 
treachery.  I  accuse  Count  Kalkreuth,  who  dares  to  love  my  wife, 
of  being  a  traitor  to  your  royal  family.  I  demand  your  consent  to 
my  divorce  from  the  princess,  and  to  the  punishment  of  the  traitor. 
That  is  the  satisfaction  which  I  demand  of  your  majesty  for  the  ruin 
which  you  have  wrought  in  my  life. " 

"You  wish  to  make  me  answerable  for  the  capriciousness  of 
woman  and  the  faithlessness  of  man, "  asked  the  king,  with  a  sad 
smile.  "You  do  that  because  I,  in  performing  my  duty  as  a  king, 
forced  you  to  marry.  It  is  true  you  did  not  love  your  intended 
wife,  because  you  did  not  know  her,  but  you  learned  to  love  her. 
That  proves  that  I  did  not  make  a  bad  choice ;  your  present  pain  is 
a  justification  for  me.  You  are  unhappy  because  you  love  the  wife 
I  gave  you  with  your  whole  heart.  For  the  capriciousness  of  women 
you  cannot  hold  me  responsible,  and  I  did  not  select  the  friend  who 
lias  so  wickedly  betrayed  you.  You  demand  of  me  that  I  should 
punish  both.  Have  you  considered,  my  brother,  that  in  pimishiug 
them  I  should  make  your  disgrace  and  misery  public  to  the  world? 
Do  not  imagine,  Henry,  that  men  pity  us  for  our  griefs ;  when  they 
seem  most  deeply  to  sympathize  with  us  they  feel  an  inward  pleas- 
ure, especially  if  it  is  a  prince  who  suffers.  It  pleases  men  that 
fate,  which  has  given  us  an  exceptional  position,  does  not  spare  us 
the  ordinary  sorrows  of  humanity." 

"  I  understand,  then,  that  you  refuse  my  request, "  said  the  prince. 
"You  will  not  consent  to  my  divorce,  you  will  not  punish  the 
traitor?" 


A  HUSBAND'S  REVENGE.  557 

"  No,  I  do  not  refuse  your  request,  but  I  beg  you  will  take  three 
days  to  consider  what  I  have  said  to  you.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
should  you  come  to  me,  and  make  the  same  demand,  I  will  give  my 
consent ;  that  is,  I  will  have  you  publicly  separated  from  your  wife, 
I  will  have  Count  Kalkreuth  punished,  and  will  thus  give  the  world 
the  right  to  laugh  at  the  hero  of  Freiburg. " 

"Very  well,  sire, "  said  the  prince,  thoughtfully,  "I  will  remind 
you  of  your  promise.  I  beg  you  will  now  dismiss  me,  for  you  see  I 
am  a  very  man  and  no  philosopher,  unworthy  to  be  a  guest  at  Sans- 
Souci." 

He  bowed  to  the  king,  who  tenderly  pressed  his  hand  and  silently 
left  the  room. 

Frederick  looked  after  him  with  an  expression  of  unutterable 
pity. 

"Three  days  will  be  long  enough  to  deaden  his  pain,  and  then  he 
Xvill  be  more  reasonable  and  form  other  resolutions. " 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A    HUSBAND'S    REVENGE. 

Camilla  lay  upon  a  sofa  in  her  boudoir,  and  listened  with  breath- 
less attention  to  the  account  her  beau  cousin  gave  of  the  adventures 
of  the  last  eight  days.  She  listened  with  sparkling  eyes  to  the  witty 
description  he  gave  of  his  duel  with  Lord  Elliot,  and  declared  that 
she  foimd  him  extraordinarily  brilliant.  Camilla  was  indeed  proud 
of  her  handsome  lover.  Kindar  explained  minutely  how  he  had 
compelled  Lord  Elliot,  who  for  a  long  time  avoided  and  fled  from 
him,  to  fight  a  duel  with  him.  How  he  forced  him  on  his  knees  to 
acknowledge  that  he  had  done  his  wife  injustice,  and  to  apologize 
for  the  insult  he  had  offered  to  Kindar,  in  charging  him  with  being 
the  lover  of  his  pure  and  virtuous  wife. 

"And  he  did  this?"  cried  Camilla;  "he  knelt  before  you  and 
begged  j'our  pardon?" 

"  Yes,  he  knelt  before  me,  and  begged  my  pardon. " 

"Then  he  is  even  more  pitiful  than  I  thought  him, "  said  Camilla, 
"and  I  am  justified  before  the  whole  world  in  despising  him. 
Nothing  can  be  more  contemptible  than  to  beg  pardon  rather  than 
fight  a  duel,  to  kneel  to  a  man  to  save  one's  miserable  life.  I  am  a 
woman,  but  I  would  scorn  such  cowardice.  I  would  despise  the 
man  I  loved  most  fondly  if  he  were  guilty  of  such  an  act  of  shame." 

Camilla  was  much  excited ;  she  did  nQt  notice  how  Kindar  started, 
turned  pa}©,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  tlje  flpor.    Slie  was  so  cbpfw^ 


558       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

with  the  courage  of  her  beau  cQusin  that  she  could  think  of  nothing 
else.  Even  her  frivolous  natureTiad  this  feminine  instinct— she 
prized  personal  daring  and  courage  in  a  man  more  than  all  other 
things ;  of  strength  of  mind  she  knew  nothing,  and  therefore  she 
could  not  appreciate  it,  but  she  demanded  courage,  dignity,  and 
strength  of  physique.  She  laid  her  hands  upon  her  cousin  with 
cordial  approbation,  and  gazed  lovingly  at  him. 

"  You  are  as  beautiful  as  a  hero  and  a  demigod,  and  it  seems  to 
me  I  never  loved  you  so  fondly  as  at  this  moment,  when  you  stand 
before  me  as  the  victor  over  my  cowardly  husband.  Ah,  I  wish 
I  could  have  witnessed  that  scene ;  you  proud  and  grand,  and  he 
lying  trembling  like  this  miserable  windspiel  at  your  feet,  repeating 
the  words  of  retraction  and  repentance  which  you  dictated." 

"It  was  indeed  worth  seeing,"  said  Kindar ;  "but  let  us  speak 
now  of  something  more  important,  dear  Camilla.  You  must  leave 
Berlin  to-day,  and  for  a  few  weeks  at  least  withdraw  to  your  estate, 
till  the  violence  of  the  storm  has  blown  over.  It  is,  of  course,  most 
agreeable  and  flattering  to  me  to  have  my  name  coupled  with  that 
of  so  lovely  and  charming  a  woman — to  be  looked  upon  with  jeal- 
ousy and  alarm  by  the  cowardly  husbands  of  Berlin.  It  will  not, 
however,  be  agreeable  to  you  to  be  torn  to  pieces  by  slanderous 
tongues.  Every  old  maid,  every  prude,  and  every  hypocritical 
coquette  (and  of  such  base  elements  the  feminine  world  is  com- 
posed) ,  will  find  this  a  happy  occasion  to  exalt  her  own  modesty 
and  virtue,  and  denounce  and  condemn  you. " 

"Not  so,"  said  Camilla,  proudly,  "I  will  remain  in  Berlin.  I 
have  courage  to  defy  the  whole  world  for  your  sake — I  will  remain 
to  prove  that  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  love.  Tlie  whole  world  shall 
know  that  the  brave  and  handsome  Kindar,  the  beloved  of  all 
women,  is  my  lover.  Ah,  cousin,  you  merit  this  compensation  at 
my  hands ;  you  defended  my  honor  against  the  aspersions  of  my 
husband,  and  compelled  him  to  a  shameful  retraction. " 

"Does  Baron  von  Kindar  make  this  boast?"  cried  a  voice  behind 
her. 

Camilla  turned  and  saw  Lord  Elliot  standing  in  the  door ;  he 
looked  at  her  with  a  cold,  contemptuous  glance,  which  wounded  her 
far  more  than  a  spoken  insult  would  have  done. 

"Why  are  you  here,  sir?"  she  cried.  "With  what  right  do  you 
dare  force  yourself  into  my  presence?" 

Lord  Elliot  made  no  reply,  but  smiled  coolly,  and  Camilla's  eyes 
filled  with  tears  of  rage. 

" Cousin, "  said  she,  turning  to  Kindar,  "will  you  not  free  me 
from  the  presence  pf  this  contenaptible  creatiire,  who  dares  tQ  affront 


A  HUSBAND'S  REVENGE.  559 

Suddenly  she  stopped  speaking  and  gazed  in  amazement  at  her 
handsome  cousin ;  his  countenance  was  not  serene ;  he  was  indeed 
livid,  and  stood  trembling  and  with  downcast  eyes  before  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Well, "  said  Lord  Elliot,  raising  himself  proudly,  "  do  you  not 
hear  your  cousin's  command?  Will  you  not  dismiss  this  poor 
creature  who  dares  disturb  this  tender  interview?" 

"I  will  withdraw, "  stammered  Kindar,  "I  am  detrop.  I  have 
no  right  to  interfere  between  Lord  Elliot  and  his  wife.  I  take  my 
leave. " 

He  tried  to  step  through  the  door,  but  the  powerful  hand  of  Lord 
Elliot  held  him  back. 

"Not  so,  my  handsome  gentleman,"  said  Lord  Elliot, -with  a 
hoarse  laugh,  "you  are  by  no  means  de  trop ;  on  the  contrary,  I  de- 
sire your  presence  ;  yoxi  will  remain  here  and  listen  to  the  charming 
and  merry  narrative  I  am  about  to  relate  to  Lady  Elliot.  I  have 
come,  madame,  to  give  your  ladyship  the  history  of  a  hunt ;  not, 
however,  of  a  chase  after  wild  beasts,  of  the  hart  and  the  hare,  but 
of  an  all-conquering  cavalier,  who,  however,  judging  from  the 
manner  in  which  he  fled  and  sought  to  save  himself,  must  possess 
the  cowardice  of  the  hare,  and  the  fleet  foot  of  the  hart.  You  know, 
I  presume,  that  I  speak  of  your  heau  cousin  and  myself. " 

While  Lord  Elliot  spoke,  Camilla  stared  in  breathless  agony  at 
her  cousin.  She  seemed  to  hope  to  read  in  his  pale  face  the  expla- 
nation of  this  incomprehensible  riddle ;  she  expected  him  to  com- 
mand her  husband  to  be  silent,  and  to  offer  him  some  new  insult. 
But  Kindar  did  not  speak,  and  Camilla  came  to  a  desperate  resolu- 
tion. She  was  determined  to  know  why  he  stood  so  pale  and  trem- 
bling before  her  husband.     She  would  force  him  to  an  explanation. 

"  It  is  wholly  unnecessary,  my  lord, "  she  said,  in  a  haughty  tone, 
"  to  relate  your  history  to  me  ;  I  am  acquainted  with  all  the  particu- 
lars of  the  chase  of  which  you  speak.  I  know  your  degradation  and 
humiliation — I  know  that  you  fell  upon  your  knees  and  pleaded  for 
pardon  when  satisfaction  was  demanded  of  you." 

"Ah  !  I  see,  le  beau  cousin  has  changed  roles  with  me,"  said  Lord 
Elliot.  "That  was  indeed  most  amiable.  Your  lover  must,  of 
course,  always  play  the  most  important  part,  and  no  doubt,  he 
thought  to  do  me  honor  by  this  change.  I  cannot  take  advantage 
of  this  generous  intention,  and  must  correct  a  few  errors  in  his 
narrative." 

"  Speak  !  then  ;  speak  I  my  lord, "  said  Camilla,  whose  eyes  were 
still  fixed  sternly  upon  her  lover. 

"  As  you  graciously  permit  it,  madame,  I  will  give  you  an  account 
of  the  chase.     But  first,  madame,  I  must  cleai*  myself  from  an  accu- 


SCO       FREDERICK:  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

sation.  I  am  suspected  of  having  challenged  Von  Kindar,  because 
he  was  the  lover  of  my  wife.  I  look  upon  that,  however,  as  an  acci- 
dent, and  nothing  more.  Z/C  beau  cousin  happened  to  be  at  hand 
when  my  susceptible,  ardent  wife  looked  around  for  a  lover,  and  she 
accepted  him  ;  he  was  the  first,  but  he  will  not  be  the  last.  I  was 
not  driven  to  pursue  him  by  jealousy.  I  am  a  true  son  of  this 
enlightened  age,  and  shall  not,  like  the  knights  of  the  olden  time, 
storm  lieaven  and  earth  because  my  wife  has  a  lover.  I  am  a  phi- 
losopher. For  a  noble  wife,  who  had  made  me  happy  in  her  love, 
I  might  perhaps  feel  and  act  differently.  I,  however,  married  a 
heartless  fool,  and  it  would  have  been  mad  folly  to  risk  my  life  with 
a  brainless  fop  for  her  sake. " 

"  Speak,  cousin  !"  cried  Camilla,  springing  forward,  white  with 
passion.  "Speak!  Do  you  not  hear  these  insults?"  She  laid  her 
hands  upon  his  arm ;  he  muttered  a  few  incomprehensible  words 
and  tried  to  shake  them  off. 

"  He  has  heard  eveiy  word, "  said  Lord  Elliot,  scornfully  ;  "  but 
he  is  without  doubt  too  polite  to  interrupt  me.  He  will  have  the 
goodness  still  to  listen  silently." 

Camilla  let  her  hands  fall ;  gnashing  her  teeth  she  turned  away 
and  seated  herself  upon  the  divan.  Her  lover  and  her  husband  stood 
before  her ;  the  one,  trembling  like  a  broken  reed,  leaned  against 
the  wall,  the  other  erect  and  proudly  conscious  of  his  own  worth 
and  dignity. 

"  I  said  that  I  would  not  have  dreamed  of  risking  my  life  with  a 
brainless  fop,  for  the  sake  of  a  heartless  fool ;  but  this  fop  was 
guilty  of  another  crime  :  he  was  not  only  the  betrayer  of  my  wife, 
but  he  was  the  author  of  a  shameful  and  most  insulting  letter, 
which  you,  madame,  had  the  effrontery  to  copy  and  send  me. " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  wrote  this  letter?"  cried  Camilla. 

"In  the  first  place,  madame,  you  are  not  even  capable  of  com- 
posing such  a  letter.  I  took  tlie  liberty  of  removing  the  original  of 
this  letter  from  your  writing-desk.  Armed  with  this  proof,  I  sought 
le  beau  cousin,  and  demanded  satisfaction.  Lieutenant  Kaphengst, 
a  former  friend  of  this  handsome  cavalier,  accompanied  me.  When 
you  deal  with  such  a  man  as  the  one  who  stands  cowering  before 
me,  witnesses  are  necessary.  He  is  quite  capable  of  denying  every 
thing,  and  changing  the  rOles.  The  baron  had  left  home,  he  had 
gone  to  Mecklenberg.  Certainly  he  did  not  know  that  I  had  come 
to  Berlin  to  seek  him,  or  he  would  have  had  the  courtesy  to  remain 
and  receive  my  visit.  I  was  too  impatient  to  await  his  return,  and 
followed  his  traces,  even  as  ardently  as  he  has  followed  you,  madame. 
I  found  him  at  last,  in  the  hotel  of  a  little  village.  Like  all  other 
sentimental  lovers,  he  longed  for  solitude ;  and,  not  wishing  to  be 


A  HUSBANDS  REVENGE.  661 

disturbed  in  his  sweet  dreams,  he  rented  the  entire  hotel.  I  was. 
however,  bold  enough  to  seek  him — with  swords  and  pistols — and 
gave  him  choice  of  weapons ;  he  was  peaceable,  and  refused  both 
sword  and  pistol.  I  therefore  took  my  third  weapon,  my  trusty 
walking-stick.  It  was  a  beautiful  bamboo-rod,  and  neither  broke 
nor  split,  though  I  beat  away  valiantly  on  the  back  of  the  knightly 
cavalier. " 

"  This  cannot  be  true.     This  is  a  lie !"  cried  Camilla. 

Lord  Elliot  raised  his  arm  and  pointed  slowly  to  Kindar.  "  Ask 
him,  madame,  if  this  is  a  lie. " 

Camilla  turned,  and  as  her  eye  rested  upon  him,  she  felt  that  she 
had  no  need  to  ask  the  question. 

Kindar  leaned  with  pale  cheek  and  tottering  knees  against  the 
wall.  He  was  a  living  picture  of  cowardly  despair  and  trembling 
terror. 

Camilla  groaned  aloud,  and  with  a  look  of  imspeakable  aversion 
she  turned  from  him  to  her  husband.  For  the  first  time,  she  did  not 
find  him  ugly.  He  was  indeed  imposing.  His  proud  bearing,  his 
noble  intellect,  and  manly  worth  impressed  her.  To  her  he  had 
never  been  but  the  fond,  tender,  yielding  lover — now  she  saw  be- 
fore her  the  firm  and  angry  man,  and  he  pleased  her.  Kindar,  who 
had  been  so  handsome  and  so  irresistible,  was  now  hateful  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Go  on, "  murmured  Camilla. 

"  Well,  I  beat  this  man  with  my  cane  till  he  consented  to  fight 
with  me.  We  had,  however,  played  this  little  comedy  too  energeti- 
cally. Tlie  people  of  the  hotel  heard  the  noise,  and  fearing  some 
fatal  result,  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  this  handsome  cavalier.  We 
deferred  the  duel,  therefore,  till  the  next  day,  but  lo !  the  next 
morning  Zc  beau  cousin  had  fled.  Without  doubt  he  had  forgotten 
our  little  arrangement,  and  his  thirst  to  see  you  lured  him  back  to 
Berlin.  I  was  barbarian  enough  to  follow  him,  and  I  swore  to  shoot 
him  down  like  a  mad  dog  if  he  did  not  consent  to  fight.  This  com- 
parison was  doubtless  somewhat  insulting,  and  he  resolved  at  last  to 
fight." 

"Ah,  he  accepted  the  challenge!"  cried  Camilla,  casting  a  sud- 
den glance  upon  Kindar;  but  oh,  how  ugly,  how  pitiful,  how  re- 
pulsive did  he  now  appear  to  her  I  She  closed  her  eyes,  in  order  not 
to  see  him. 

"  We  rode  on  with  our  seconds  and  our  weapons  to  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Beman,  on  the  border  of  Saxony  ;  but  I  saw,  madame,  that 
your  cavalier  had  no  inclination  to  fight  this  duel.  Besides,  I 
thought  of  you — of  your  great  grief  if  he  should  fall,  and  thus  de- 
prive j'ou  of  j'our  prettj^  plaything  before  you  had  tim^  to  replace  it 


563        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAmLY. 

You  know  that  my  heart  was  ever  soft  and  compassionate.  I  resolved, 
therefore,  to  be  merciful  to  le  beau  cousin.  Arrived  on  the  ground, 
I  proposed  to  Kindar,  instead  of  fighting  with  me,  to  sign  a  pajper 
which  I  had  prepared,  in  which  he  implores  my  pardon  and  my 
mercy,  acknowledges  himself  to  be  an  unworthy  scoundrel  and  liar, 
and  solemnly  swears  that  eveiy  accusation  he  brought  against  me  in 
the  letter  you  copied  was  a  lie — declares  me  to  be  an  irreproachable 
cavalier,  who  has  been  deceived  and  betrayed  by  himself  and  Lady 
Elliot.  Baron  Kindar  found  this  somewhat  strongly  expressed,  and 
preferred  to  light  rather  than  sign  it. " 

"God  be  thanked  !"  murmured  Camilla. 

"Well,  we  were  resolved  to  fight,  and  I  was  obliging  enough  to 
give  Kindar  the  first  shot.  He  accepted  this  advantage  readily, 
and  I  confess  he  aimed  well.  His  hand  trembled,  and  he  shot  too 
high,  just  over  my  head.  Now  it  was  my  turn.  I  raised  the  pistol, 
and  I  swear  to  you,  madame,  my  hand  did  not  tremble.  Perhaps 
Kindar  noticed  this — perhaps  he  wished  to  live  and  find  a  compensa- 
tion in  your  love  for  the  terrible  torments  of  the  last  few  days.  It 
suffices  to  say,  he  called  out  to  me  not  to  shoot,  as  he  was  ready  to 
sign  the  paper  confessing  he  was  a  scoundrel  and  a  liar.  He 
signed  it  kneeling  at  my  feet,  and  begging  pardon.  I  then  gave 
him  permission  to  return  to  Berlin.  For  myself,  I  drove  to  Sans- 
Souci,  asked  an  audience  of  the  king,  and  obtained  his  consent  to  a 
divorce.  You  know,  madame,  that  I  have  a  soft  and  yielding 
nature.  I  never  could  refuse  a  wish  of  your  heart.  I  therefore  im- 
plored his  majesty  to  allow  of  your  immediate  marriage  with  Baron 
Kindar. " 

"  Never,  never,  will  that  marriage  take  place !"  cried  Camilla, 
springing  from  the  divan  and  gazing  with  abhorrence  upon  Kindar. 

"  It  will  take  place  !"  said  Lord  Elliot,  firmly  and  imperiously  ; 
"you  love  him,  you  betrayed  me  for  his  sake — he  is  a  base  coward, 
despised  by  every  man,  but  still  you  will  marry  him.  We  are  di- 
vorced, and  the  king  commands  this  marriage.  From  this  hour  we 
are  nothing  to  each  other — you  are  the  betrotlied  of  Baron  von 
Kindar.  Allow  me  to  give  you  this  paper,  which  he  signed  to  save 
his  pitiful  life,  as  a  bridal  present. " 

He  laid  the  paper  upon  the  table,  and  bowed  to  Camilla,  who 
was  pale  ajid  terrified,  and  whose  teeth  chattered  as  if  in  an  ague-fit. 

"  Madame, "  said  Lord  Elliot,  "  I  have  the  honor  to  bid  you  adieu. 
I  wish  you  a  long  and  happy  wedded  life !" 

Lord  Elliot  left  the  room  and  passed  on  to  the  apartment  which 
had  been  his  own.  Every  thing  had  been  removed,  all  the  pictures 
taken  from  the  wall  but  one ;  only  Camilla's  portrait,  taken  in  her 
biidal  dress,  remained.    He  stood  long  before  this  loveljjr  pictwe, 


A  HUSBAND'S  REVENGE.  563 

and  gazed  steadily,  as  if  to  impress  every  lineament  upon  his  soul. 
He  felt  that  in  taking  leave  of  this  painting  he  was  bidding  adieu 
to  youth,  to  happiness,  to  all  the  sweet  illusions  of  life. 

"Farewell!"  said  he,  aloud — "farewell,  Camilla!  my  bride!  the 
dream  is  over !" 

He  took  a  little  knife  from  his  pocket  and  cut  the  picture  in  two 
pieces,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  then  slowly  descended  the  steps 
to  his  carriage,  in  which  his  friend,  Doctor  Blitz  awaited  him. 

"I  am  ready,  doctor,  and  I  beg  you  to  give  me  a  bed  in  your 
house  for  the  present.  During  the  last  ten  days  I  have  had  a  burn- 
ing fever. " 

While  Lord  Elliot  was  driving  off,  Camilla  and  le  beau  cousin 
stood  confronting  each  other ;  neither  dared  to  break  the  fearful 
silence,  or  even  to  look  at  each  other. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  General  von  Saldern,  the  adju- 
tant of  the  king,  entered  the  room.  Camilla  had  not  the  strength 
to  advance  to  meet  him  ;  she  returned  his  salutation  by  a  faint  incli- 
nation of  the  head.  The  general  did  not  appear  to  see  Kindar,  and 
made  no  response  to  his  profound  bow. 

"  Madame, "  said  the  general,  solemnly,  "  I  come  at  the  command 
of  the  king ;  by  his  authority  as  king  and  judge,  and  as  head  of  the 
church,  he  has  annulled  your  marriage  with  Lord  Elliot.  This  was 
done  as  a  proof  of  his  regard  to  Lord  Elliot.  Out  of  regard  to  your 
own  family,  he  insists  upon  your  immediate  marriage  with  Baron 
Kindar,  who  has  been  dismissed  from  the  king's  service." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Camilla,  "I  will  never  marry  him!  Leave  me, 
sir — I  will  never  become  the  wife  of  this  man  !" 

"  It  is  his  majesty's  express  command  that  you  should  be  married 
without  delay, "  said  General  Saldern  ;  "  he  has  also  commanded  me 
to  say  to  you  that  this  scandalous  intrigue,  insulting  to  morals  and 
good  manners,  should  no  longer  be  brought  before  the  public.  You 
are  both,  therefore,  banished  from  his  court,  from  Potsdam  and 
Berlin,  and  commanded  to  take  refuge  at  your  country  seat,  and 
lead  there  a  solitary  and  quiet  life.  This  is  the  only  punishment  he 
inflicts  upon  you,  and  I  have  nothing  more  to  announce.  If  agree- 
able to  you,  madame,  we  will  go  at  once  !" 

"Where?"  cried  Camilla,  drawing  back  in  terror  from  the  gen- 
eral, who  approached  her. 

"In  the  next  room,  madame,  a  priest  is  waiting,  who,  at  the 
express  command  of  his  majesty,  will  now  perform  the  marriage 
ceremony. " 

Camilla  uttered  a  loud  shriek  and  fell  senseless  into  the  arms  of 
le  beau  cousin,  who  advanced  toward  her  at  a  nod  from  the  general. 

When  consciousness  returned,  the  priest  was  before  her  and 


564        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Kindar  at  her  side.  The  ceremony  was  i)erformed,  and  the  unhappy 
couple  left  Berlin  at  once,  never  to  return.  The  remainder  o#  their 
lives  was  passed  in  sorrow,  solitude,  and  self -contempt. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  SEPARATION. 

The  three  days  the  king  had  allowed  his  brother  to  make  up  his 
mind  in,  were  past.  Prince  Henry  had  made  up  his  mind.  On  the 
morning  of  the  second  day,  he  had  sent  off  two  couriers — one  to  the 
king  at  Sans-Souci,  the  other  to  his  wife  at  Rheinsberg.  He  had 
remained  in  Berlin,  and  had  taken  possession  of  the  splendid  palace 
opposite  the  opera-house,  that  the  king  had  lately  built  and  fur- 
nished for  him.  He  had  ordered  his  major-domo  to  prepare  a  hand- 
some dinner,  as  he  wished  to  open  his  house  by  entertaining  all  the 
nobility  of  Berlin. 

The  feast  was  to  take  place  the  third  day  after  the  king's  inter- 
view with  the  prince. 

The  courier  who  left  the  morning  before,  carried  a  letter  to  Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina,  requesting  her  in  a  few  cold,  ceremonious  words, 
to  come  to  Berlin  and  preside  at  the  proptosed  dinner  and  concert. 

This  invitation  was  to  the  princess  a  command  she  dared  not 
resist.  She  left  Rheinsberg  early  in  the  morning  and  arrived  at  the 
palace  an  hour  before  dinner. 

Prince  Henry  met  his  wife  in  the  large  vestibule  leading  to  the 
front  building.  He  advanced  toward  her  with  a  bright  smile,  passed 
her  arm  through  his,  and  led  her,  pale  and  trembling,  up  the  steps, 
making  her  obsei-ve  the  style  of  the  building  and  the  many  con- 
veniences of  their  new  dwelling.  He  spoke  cheerfully,  walking 
slowly  so  as  to  give  the  followers  of  the  princess,  who  were  occupied 
with  her  baggage,  time  to  collect  around  her  and  witness  the  per- 
fect understanding  between  her  and  her  husband.  When  they  had 
mounted  the  last  step,  the  prince  laughingly  pointed  to  the  two  halls 
leading  from  the  stairway. 

"Here,  madame,  commence  our  separate  apartments.  To  you 
belong  the  right,  to  me  the  left  wing  of  the  castle.  I  will  pass 
through  the  hall  to  the  right  and  lead  you  to  the  apartments  whose 
mistress  you  will  now  become. " 

The  princess  threw  a  timid,  inquiring  glance  at  him.  She  had 
been  so  convinced  that  her  husband  would  demand  a  divorce,  that 
she  had  allowed  her  thoughts  to  linger  upon  this  ]X)ssible  mode  of 
escape.    J^ow  her  h?^rt  t^rembled  within  hpr.     "Ferhap,"  roiif- 


THE  SE^AfiATlON.  665 

mured  she  as  they  passed  through  the  long  hall — "  perhaps  he  will 
murder  me  as  the  Duke  of  Orleans  did  his  wife  because  she  loved 
the  Coimt  de  Guiche. "  She  hesitated,  therefore,  as  the  prince  opened 
a  door  and  bade  her  enter.  She  looked  anxiously  around  for  her 
followers. 

"Cannot  my  maids  accompany  us?"  said  she,  softly. 

"  No,  madame, "  said  the  prince,  roughly.     "  We  go  alone. " 

He  drew  her  into  the  room,  entered  after  her,  then  closed  and 
locked  the  door. 

Princess  Wilhelmina  shrieked  in  terror,  and  drew  away  from 
him.  "Why  do  you  lock  the  door?"  said  she,  trembling.  "  Do  you 
wish  to  murder  me?" 

The  prince  laughed  aloud.  "  Ah,  you  wish  a  tragic  end  to  yout 
romance,  madame,"  said  he.  "Not  so,  however.  It  will  be  quiet 
and  prosaic.  You  will  act  neither  the  part  of  a  martyr  nor  a  hero- 
ine. I  wish  neither  to  reproach  nor  punish  you.  I  leave  that  to 
God  and  your  conscience.  I  wish  only  to  arrange  with  you  the  de- 
tails of  our  future  life.  I  locked  the  door,  as  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
disturbed. " 

"What  are  these  details?"  said  the  princess. 

"  We  will  speak  of  them  hereafter,  madame.  Will  you  first  do 
me  the  honor  to  read  this  letter  I  have  just  received  from  the  king 
in  answer  to  mine?    Have  the  kindness  to  read  it  aloud. " 

The  princess  received  the  letter  and  read  : 

"  My  Dear  Brother — Your  letter  has  been  a  great  source  of  con- 
solation to  me,  for  it  assures  me  that  you  are  again  a  man,  and  have 
overcome  your  grief.  It  is  not  your  lot  to  be  only  a  tender  or  an 
avenging  husband.  You  are,  before  all  else,  a  prince  and  a  man. 
Both  qualifications  have  duties  forcing  you  to  submit  to  life  and  to 
become  worthy  of  it.  There  is  still  much  to  be  done  in  this  world 
by  both  of  us,  and  a  true  man  should  not  be  turned  from  his  path 
because  a  foolish  woman  places  a  few  thorns  beneath  his  pillow. 
Stifling  his  pain,  he  continues  his  road  quietly.  I  am  glad  this  is 
also  your  opinion — that  you  have  given  up  all  thought  of  a  public 
scandal  and  denunciation.  In  relation  to  the  princess,  I  give  you 
full  power  to  make  any  and  eveiy  arrangement  you  see  fit.  As  to 
Kalkreuth,  he  shall  receive  the  place  you  mentioned.  I  have  ap- 
pointed him  lieutenant-general  of  the  third  army  corps  in  Prussia. 
He  will  leave  here  at  once.  I  desire  you  to  inform  him  of  his  pro- 
motion. As  soon  as  you  dism iss  him,  send  him  to  me  at  Sans-Souci. 
You  tqll  me  you  are  about  to  give  a  feast.  That  pleases  me  right 
well.  It  is  better  to  stifle  your  pain  with  bright  flowers  and  gay 
music,  than  to  tear  out  your  hair  and  retire  to  a  convent.  May  your 
feast  be  a  bright  one,  and  may  it  last  forever !  Frederick.  " 


66C       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMII.Y. 

Princess  Wilhelmina,  having  finished  the  letter,  handed  it  to 
her  husband.  "  I  see, "  whispered  she,  softly,  "  that  you  have  been 
noble  and  generous,  my  husband.  You  shower  benefits  upon  us  in- 
stead of  just  anger. " 

"  I  do  neither  the  one  nor  the  other, "  said  the  prince,  coldly  ;  "  I 
simply  wish  to  pass  a  peaceful  life,  and  above  all  things  I  would 
not  have  the  world  think  me  unhappy,  for  unhappy  I  am  not  nor 
ever  mean  to  be. " 

Tlie  princess  gave  a  timid  glance  at  his  countenance,  so  at  vari- 
anoe  with  his  words.  The  last  three  days  had  worked  such  a  fearful 
change.  His  cheeks  were  thin  and  pale,  his  brow  dark  and  clouded 
— about  his  mouth  were  deep  lines  of  care  never  more  to  be  effaced. 
Princess  Wilhelmina  was  deeply  touched  when  she  saw  this  change. 
*  "My  husband,"  said  she  softly,  raising  her  hands  imploringly  to 
him,  "have  pity  on  yourself — on  me.  Hear  me  before  you  decide. 
I  feel  that  I  have  sinned  heavily  against  you,  but  I  will  endeavor  to 
expiate  my  sin.  In  looking  at  you  and  seeing  how  much  you  have 
suffered,  the  pain  that  almost  bursts  my  heart  tells  me  how  dear  you 
are  to  me.  I  repent — I  repent,  my  husband.  I  will  force  my  heart 
to  love  you,  and  you  alone.  From  now  on,  I  will  be  a  faithful 
wife ;  the  one  aim  of  my  life  shall  be  to  make  you  happy.  Here  I 
swear,  as  before  God's  altar,  that  I  will  love  and  obey  you  as  my 
husband  and  master.  Will  you  accept  this  heart,  th^t  comes  to  you 
full  of  repentance ?    Henry,  will  you?" 

She  held  out  her  hand,  with  a  bright,  beaming  glance,  but  he 
did  not  take  it. 

"  No ;  it  is  too  late, "  said  he.  "  I  raised  you  a  temple  in  my 
heart.  You  have  destroyed  it,  and  wish  now  to  build  another  with 
the  shattered  ruins.  No,  princess ;  that  which  the  lightning  has 
struck  must  remain  in  ashes.  I  could  never  believe  in  the  stability 
of  your  building,  but  would  be  expecting  it  to  fall  daily.  This 
temple  can  never  be  rebuilt.  I  forgive,  but  can  never  more  love 
you.  We  are  separated  before  God  and  our  own  hearts.  But  to  the 
world  we  are  still  wedded.  We  shall  both  inhabit  this  palace,  but 
we  shall  seek  never  to  meet  one  another.  On  grauid  fet".  days,  when 
etiquette  demands  it,  we  shall  dine  together,  but  preside  at  separate 
tables.  And  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  never  address  you.  We  are 
dead  to  one  another  ;  and  the  dead  do  not  speak.  In  the  summer  I 
shall  live  at  Rheinsberg ;  the  king  presented  it  to  me  on  my  mar- 
riage with  you,  and  I  think  I  have  paid  dearly  enough  for  it  to  be 
allowed  to  spend  my  time  there  alone.  You  will  not  follow  me 
there,  but  will  remain  in  Berlin,  or  travel,  as  it  suits  you.  Do  you 
accept  my  conditions,  madame?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  princess,  proudly.     "I  accept  them.     We 


THE  SEPARATION.  567 

•will  live  like  two  galley-slaves,  boimd  together  in  chains,  without 
one  thought  or  feeling  in  unison.  You  have  devised  a  severe  pun- 
ishment for  me,  my  prince.  My  only  fear  is  that  I  am  not  the  only 
victim — that  you  also  suffer?" 

"  I  told  you  before,  that  I  wished  to  punish  no  one.  Ail  I  seek  is 
a  little  rest — a  little  peace,  and  your  presence  in  this  palace  cannot 
endanger  that,^  for  you,  madame,  have  not  only  annihilated  my  love 
for  you,  but  also  the  remembrance  of  it.  And  now,  as  you  have  ac- 
cepted my  conditions  for  our  future  life,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say 
than  farewell,  until  death  !  Farewell,  madame ;  may  your  life  be  a 
happy  one !" 

"Farewell,  prince!"  murmured  Wilhelmina,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  tears.  "  Farewell !  and  may  God  teach  your  heart  to  pity  and 
forgive !" 

"You  will  now  have  the  kindness,  madame,  to  arrange  your 
toilet,  then  to  follow  me  with  your  court  to  the  great  reception- 
room.  We  give  to-day  a  splendid  dinner.  At  this  fSte  we  will  take 
an  eternal  adieu  of  the  past.  It  will  be  the  last  time  we  dine  to- 
gether.    Farewell,  madame  ;  I  await  you. " 

He  bowed  profoundly,  then  moved  to  the  door.  The  princess 
gazed  after  him  breathlessly,  and  the  tears  that  had  long  stood  in 
her  eyes  now  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

When  the  prince  had  reached  the  threshold,  she  started  forward, 
crying  in  a  piteous  voice  : 

"Heniy!  oh,  Henry  I" 

The  prince  did  not  turn,  but  opened  the  door  and  passed  out  of 
the  room. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  a  gay  crowd  was  assembled  in  the  recep- 
tion-room. The  prince  received  his  guests  in  his  usual  gay,  cordial 
manner.  But  the  princess  was  different.  She  was  more  quiet  and 
formal  than  usual.  Her  eyes  did  not  sparkle  ;  her  cheeks  were  pale 
in  spite  of  her  rouge ;  her  voice  was  low  and  tremulous,  and  the 
smile  she  called  to  her  lip  was  hard  and  forced.  A  still  more  re- 
markable change  had  taken  place  in  Count  Kalkreuth's  appearance. 
He  who  generally  sparkled  with  gayety  and  wit,  whose  merry  jests 
had  been  the  delight  of  the  court — he  who  had  been  the  very  shadov.- 
of  the  princess,  her  most  devoted  cavalier — stood  now  pale  and 
•peechless  at  a  window,  gazing  sadly  at  the  prince,  who  was  laugh- 
ing and  talking  with  his  guests,  and  who  had  passed  him  repeatedly 
without  turning  his  head.  The  courtiers,  however,  saw  only  the 
outward  signs  of  that  agony  that  had  almost  distracted  the  count  in 
the  last  four  days. 

For  four  days,  since  their  last  meeting  in  the  garden  of  Rheins- 
^r^,  th§  prince  had  not  spoken  to  Jiin^.    I^  was  \n  Vftin  )w  hf(i 


668        FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

written  and  implored  an  audience.  The  prince  returned  his  letters 
unopened.  In  vain  that  at  almost  every  hour  during  these  four 
wretched  days  he  had  had  himself  announced  to  the  prince.  Prince 
Henry  would  not  receive  him.  And  still  he  felt  ^he  inevitable 
necessity  of  having  an  explanation  with  the  prince.  His  heart 
craved  it  as  the  dying  man  craves  the  last  consolations  of  religion. 
This  friendship  for  the  prince,  notwithstanding  he  had  betrayed  and 
wounded  it,  was,  and  had  always  been  to  him  a  sort  of  religion  ;  he 
had  sinned  against  it  in  the  folly  of  his  passion,  but  he  had  now 
come  to  his  senses,  and  he  repented  his  guilt  bitterly.  Not  a  thought 
of  the  princess  lingered  in  his  heart ;  it  was  the  prince  he  yearned 
after ;  he  must  speak  to  him  ;  he  must  be  forgiven  by  him.  His 
love  for  him  was  greater  than  ever.  Now  that  he  had  turned  from 
him,  he  knew  how  much  he  had  lost.  He  had  not  yet  given  up  the 
hope  of  an  interview ;  for  this  alone  had  he  come  to  the  dinner. 
But  whenever  he  endeavored  to  approach  the  prince,  he  had  turned 
from  him  and  entered  into  earnest  conversation  with  some  by- 
standers. 

Now  the  prince  stood  alone  at  a  window  ;  now  or  never  must  the 
count  succeed  in  speaking  to  him.  Passing  through  the  room 
hastily,  he  stood  before  Prince  Henry. 

"  My  prince, "  murmured  the  count,  softly,  "  have  pity  on  me.  I 
entreat  you  to  listen  to  me  for  fifteen  minutes  !" 

The  prince  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  upon  the  count's  pale,  agitated 
countenance,  but  did  not  speak.  Then  passing  proudly  before  him, 
he  advanced  to  meet  Prince  Frederick  William,  who  had  just 
arrived. 

The  doors  of  the  dining-saloon  were  now  thrown  open,  and  the 
guests  approached  the  richly-covered  table,  at  one  end  of  which  sat 
the  prince  and  his  wife.  Not  far  from  them  was  Count  Kalkreuth. 
For  more  than  two  hours  he  had  borne  the  agony  of  being  near  the 
prince  without  being  addressed  by  him.  For  two  hours  he  had 
stood  the  inquiring,  malicious  smiles  and  glances  of  the  courtiers, 
who  were  looking  on  with  delight  at  his  humiliation. 

His  martyrdom  was  almost  over.  Dinner  was  finished,  and  all 
awaited  a  sign  from  the  princely  couple  to  rise  from  the  table. 
Prince  Henry  arose,  glass  in  hand,  and  said,  in  a  loud  voice : 

"  And  now,  my  guests,  I  have  pleasant  news  for  you  ;  as  you  are 
all  friends  of  Count  Kalkreuth,  what  is  good  news  to  him  will  be  to 
you  also.  His  majesty  has  appointed  him  lieutenant-general  of 
Prince  Frederick  William's  army  corps  in  Prussia.  The  king, 
knowing  my  true  friendship  for  him,  granted  me  the  privilege  of 
announcing  his  promotion,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  through  it  we 
|p«©  him,  for  bis  majfisjy  (\f»iT$B  bim,  as  soon  an  we  leave  tb^  table. 


THE  SEPARATION.  569 

to  hasten  to  Sans-Souci  to  receive  his  commission.  And  now,  gen- 
tlemen, fill  your  glasses,  we  will  drink  to  the  lieutenant-general's 
welfare. " 

All  arose  to  drink  the  toast  except  Count  Kalkreuth.  His  head 
was  bent  almost  upon  his  breast,  as  if  he  were  ashamed  to  show  his 
pale,  agitated  countenance.  He  would  have  given  all  he  possessed 
to  have  flown  from  the  hall.  Princess  Wilhelmina  sat  opposite,  she 
had  not  yet  looked  at  him,  but  she  now  threw  him  a  glance  full  of 
inexpressible  pity,  and  raised  her  glass  hastily  to  her  lips.  It  was 
not  wine,  but  her  own  tears  that  she  drank. 

The  prince  now  led  the  princess  to  the  reception-room.  He  stood 
beside  her  when  Kalkreuth  approached.  The  guests  were  grouped 
about  the  room,  every  ej'e  was  fixed  eagerly  upon  this  trio. 

Count  Kalkreuth  was  still  pale  and  unmanned  ;  with  tottering, 
trembling  steps  he  advanced  toward  the  princely  couple. 

The  prince  turned  laughingly  to  his  guests,  saying:  "See  the 
strange  effect  of  joy.  It  has  transformed  our  gay  and  witty  count. 
He  is  stem  and  solemn  as  if,  instead  of  an  honor,  he  had  received 
a  degradation. " 

No  voice  answered  the  prince.  Finally,  in  midst  of  deep  silence, 
the  count  said : 

"  I  come  to  take  leave  of  your  royal  highness  before  going  to  that 
exile  which  his  majesty  has  kindly  chosen  for  me.  For,  although 
it  is  promotion,  you  must  permit  me  to  reiterate  that  it  is  also  ban- 
ishment, for  at  Konigsberg  I  shall  not  see  my  prince.  But  I  shall 
carry  your  picture  in  my  heart — there  it  shall  forever  dwell. " 

"  We  will  not  make  our  parting  more  hard  by  sweet  words, "  said 
Prince  Henry,  emphasizing  the  last  words.  "  B'd  adieu  to  my  wife, 
kiss  her  hand,  and  then  God  be  with  you  !" 

The  princess,  muttering  a  few  incomprehensible  words,  gave 
him  her  hand,  white  and  colorless  as  that  of  a  corpse.  Count  Kal- 
kreuth touched  liis  lips  to  it,  and  they  were  so  cold  that  the  princes* 
shuddered  as  if  she  had  been  embraced  by  death  itself. 

It  was  their  last  meeting  !— a  cold,  formal  farewell  for  life.  The 
count  now  turned  to  the  prince,  who  gave  him  his  hand  smilingly. 

"Farewell,  count,"  said  he.  Stooping  to  embrace  him,  he  whis- 
pered in  his  ear:  "You  once  saved  my  life,  we  are  now  quits,  fof 
you  have  murdered  my  heart.     Farewell !" 

He  turned  from  him.  The  coiuit,  no  longer  able  to  suppress  his 
tears,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  tottered  from  the  room. 

A  few  hours  later  he  stood  in  the  kiug's  ante-chamber  at  Sans> 

Souci.      He  had  just  been  announced.     He  waited  long — no  one 

came  to  conduct  him  to  the  king  ;  every  door  remained  closed,  every 

thing  around  him  was  dull  and  deserted.     It  was  dark  ;  the  sharp 

37 


570       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

April  wind  was  beating  against  the  window  and  howling  through 
the  chimney.  The  count's  conscience  was  busy  at  work  in  this 
gloomy  chamber.  He  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  was  preparing 
to  leave,  when  the  door  was  opened,  and  an  adjutant  entered  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  king's  apartments. 

The  king  was  in  his  sitting-room.  As  Count  Kalkreuth  entered, 
he  laid  aside  the  book  he  had  been  reading,  and  rose.  In  a  stem, 
imperious  manner  he  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  As  my  brother  desired  it,  I  have  appointed  you  lieutenant-gen- 
eral of  the  third  army  coi-ps, "  said  he,  harshly.  "  You  leave  at  once 
for  Konigsberg — you  know  your  duties.  Go,  and  endeavor  to  fulfil 
them." 

"Sire  !"  said  the  count,  softly. 

"  Go  I  not  another  word  !" 

Count  Kalkreuth,  almost  unable  to  make  the  military  salute, 
left  the  room,  stifling  his  anger. 

The  king  looked  after  him  thoughtfully.  "  Poor  Henry  !"  mur- 
mured he,  softly,  "had  you  also  to  receive  the  Judas-kiss  from  a 
friend?  Poor  brother !  you  were  so  happy — why  did  cruel  fate  dis- 
enchant you  ?  There  is  much  in  being  happy  in  your  own  estima- 
tion— there  is  upon  the  earth  no  other  sort  of  happiness ;  and  whether 
tme  or  false,  the  peace  it  brings  is  alike.  I,  I  am  so  poor  that  I  no 
longer  believe  in  the  one  or  the  other.  And  stiU  men  envy  me ! 
Envy  a  poor,  disenchanted,  solitary  man — envy  him  because  he 
wears  a  crown  !  What  sort  of  an  existence  have  I?  My  life  is  full 
of  work,  full  of  sorrow,  nothing  else !  I  work  for  my  subjects ; 
they  do  not  thank  me,  and  will  greet  and  welcome  my  successor 
some  day,  be  he  ever  so  mean  and  contemptible,  as  they  once  greeted 
and  welcomed  me.  The  love  of  a  people  for  their  king  is  a  love  full 
of  egotism  and  self-interest.  Who  has  ever  loved  me  otherwise  than 
selfishly?  I  met  my  friends  with  an  open  heart — when  with  them 
I  forgot  that  I  was  a  king,  but  they  never  forgot  it ;  not  one,  not  a 
single  one  loved  in  me  the  man.  The  foolish  populace  call  me  a 
hero,  and  speak  of  the  laurels  that  crown  my  brow,  but  of  the 
thorns  they  have  woven  m  it  they  know  nothing.  Would  I  need 
have  no  more  to  do  with  men,  for  they  have  poor,  slavish  souls ! 
They  deceive  themselves — they  all  deceive  me. " 

As  the  king  ceased  speaking,  he  felt  his  foot  touched.  Some- 
what startled,  he  looked  down.  His  greyhound  Diana  was  lying  at 
his  feet,  gazing  at  him  with  her  large,  intelligent  eyes.  A  soft 
smile  crossed  Frederick's  countenance.  Stooping  to  caress  her,  he 
said : 

"You  come  to  remind  me  that  there  is  still  love  and  truth  upon 
the  earth,  but  one  must  not  be  silly  enough  to  look  for  it  among 


NOTES.  '  571 

men.  Ck>me  here,  Diana,  my  little  companion ;  I  was  wrong  to  call 
myaelf  solitary,  for  are  you  not  here?  and  then  have  I  not  my  flute? 
Is  she  not  a  loving,  trustworthy  friend,  to  whom  every  thing  can  be 
confided?    You  two  shall  be  my  sole  companions  this  evening. " 

Raising  his  flute,  he  commenced  to  play  softly,  walking  up  and 
down  his  room.  Diana  followed  him  slowly,  listening  in  seeming 
devotion  to  the  long,  wailing  tones  of  her  rival. 

Sad  and  wonderful  to  hear  was  the  music  of  this  solitary  king ; 
like  broken,  dying  sighs  and  sobs  were  its  tones  ;  and  the  howling 
wind,  rushing  in  through  the  window,  added  its  mournful  wail  to 
Federick  the  Great's  song  of  woe. 


NOTES. 

(Paqe  152.) 
ODE  TO  COUNT  BRtHL. 
Inscription.  —"It  is  not  necessary  to  make  ourselves  uneasy  about  the  future." 
"High  Destiny's  unhappy  slave, 
Absolute  lord  of  too  indolent  a  king. 
Oppressed  with  work  whose  care  importunes  him— 
Brtthl,  leave  the  useless  perplexities  of  grandeur. 
In  the  bosom  of  thine  opulence 
I  see  the  Qod  of  the  wearied  ones. 
And  in  thy  magnificence 
Repose  makes  thy  nights. 

"Descend  from  this  palace,  whose  haughty  dome 
Towering  o'er  Saxony,  rises  to  the  skies; 
In  which  thy  fearful  mind  confines  the  tempest. 
Which  agitates  at  the  court,  a  nation  of  envierg. 

Look  at  this  fragile  grandeur. 

And  cease  at  last  to  admire 

The  pompous  shining  of  a  city 

Where  all  feign  to  adore  thee. 

"Know  thatForttme  is  light  and  inconstant; 
A  deceiver  who  delights  in  cruel  reverses; 
She  is  seen  to  abuse  the  wise  man,  the  vulgar 
Insolently  playing  with  ail  this  weak  universa 

To-day  it  is  on  my  head 

That  she  lets  her  favors  fall, 

By  to-morrow  she  will  be  prepared 

To  carry  them  elsewhere. 

"  Does  she  fix  on  me  her  wayward  fickleness, 
My  heart  will  be  grateful  for  the  good  she  does  me; 
Does  she  wish  to  show  elsewhere  her  benevolence, 
I  give  her  back  her  gifts  without  pain— without  regret. 

Filled  with  strongest  virtue, 

I  will  esp)Ouse  Poverty,  . 

If  for  dower  she  brings  me 

Honor  and  probity." 


572       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

CPaob  840.) 
"  A  dieu,  D'Argens  I    In  this  picture 
Thou  wilt  see  the  cause  of  my  death ; 
At  least,  do  not  think,  a  nothing  in  the  vault, 
That  I  aspire  to  apotheosis. 
All  that  friendship  by  these  lines  proposes 
Is  only  this  much,  that  here  the  celestial  torch 
May  clear  thy  days  while  I  repose, 
And  each  time  when  the  Spring  appears  anew 
And  from  her  abimdant  breast  offers  thee  the  flowen  there  endoatd, 
That  thou  with  a  bouquet  of  myrtle  and  rose 
Wilt  deign  to  decorate  my  tomb. ' ' 

(Paox  439.)   : 
"  Under  a  most  happy  omen, 
The  goddess  of  love 
Wished  that  a  new  sacrifice 
Should  consecrate  to  her  our  bright  days. 
Already  the  fagots  are  Ughted, 
The  altar  glows,  the  incense  fumes. 
The  victim  is  adorned— 
By  love  itself  it  is  consumed, 
The  mystery  accomplished." 

CPagk  430.) 
"  It  is  thine,  swan  of  the  Saxons, 
To  draw  the  secret  from  the  miser  Nature; 
To  soften  with  thy  songs  the  hard 
And  detestable  sounds  of  a  barbarous  tongue.** 

(Pagi  605.) 
"  This  is  not  a  sparrow 
Kept  in  this  cage. 
It  is  one  of  those  birds 
Who  sing  in  storms. 
Open,  friend  of  the  wise, 
Break  iron  and  bolts. 
The  songs  in  your  woods 
Shall  fly  bock  to  you." 

(Paqk  505.) 
**rhe  nightingale  sings,  and  this  is  the  reason 
That  he  is  taken  to  sing  in  a  prison. 
See  now  the  sparrow,  who  does  so  much  evil. 
Flays  with  life  without  fear  of  cages. 
See  in  this  portrait, 
Which  shows  the  effect 
Of  the  good  luck  of  rogues,  and  the  misfortune  of  saga*.** 

THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

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